


Azure Moonlighting

by The_resolution_to_take_flight



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Blood and Gore, Cunnilingus, Dubious clothing choices, Dubious use of scissors in the bedroom, F/F, F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Grief/Mourning, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic in the bedroom, Masturbation, Slow Burn, Swearing, Touching, Vaginal Fingering, Vanilla, Wash your mouth out Felix, hands-on teaching, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21746602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_resolution_to_take_flight/pseuds/The_resolution_to_take_flight
Summary: This work is a series of unrelated fics in progress based on the relations between each of the members of the Blue Lions House in FE3H. None of the works are in continuity with each other, this is a shameless excuse for smut.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Mercedes von Martritz, Annette Fantine Dominic/My Unit | Byleth, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/My Unit | Byleth, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Dedue Molinaro, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 14
Kudos: 105





	1. Call me by name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe's brain stops working because he's hot for teacher. Someone help this poor awkward soul. Ashe x Byleth.

From his seat in the gardens under a tree, Ashe stared vacantly across the page of his book. It was as though the words were only occurring in front of him, intangible and out of his comprehension, and he couldn't figure out why they were so hard to take in.

 _They're right I'm front of me,_ he scolded himself, _so why can't I just...?_ A flash of pale green danced at the edge of his vision and he jolted. His eyes leapt off the page to chase a glimpse of the professor's hair. When it was revealed to be nothing more than a small bird darting through the greenery, he found himself nursing a hollowness inside his chest, and he closed his book in defeat. His eyes widened. _Did I... want to see her just now? Is that the reason why I can't focus? But... surely the professor is just that, my teacher._ Ashe shook his head. _No, she is much more- a comrade, a confidant, a... friend..._ Unbidden, her face seemed to appear before him. Eyes of depth and mystery, soft supple lips parted ever so slightly, and her raspy whispered breath.

"Ashe."

Ashe opened his eyes and shrieked. Out of nowhere, Byleth had crouched centimeters in front of him, her head tilted slightly in concern. Completely disoriented, the book flew from his hands as he instinctively reached for the arrows on his back.

Except, there were no arrows. He was at the old Monastery gardens. And the book, upon gravity's command, sailed downwards into his skull.

Byleth's face became two, and both were trying to say something, but the words wouldn't reach his ears. "Ah, maybe I've forgotten English entirely today," he mumbled as the world went dark.

*

A dull ache rang out like the cathedral bell in Ashe's head. He winced, his face screwed up in agony and his vision black. _I can't see,_ he thought to himself briefly, before realising his eyes were closed. A green light flickered behind his eyelids and he let his eyes flutter open to the source. His professor was standing over him, her hands passing over his forehead in gentle motions. Her face was crinkled slightly in that way he often saw when she used to mark their papers in class. A smile crept into the corners of his mouth. How long ago that was, but how beautiful she has always been. Lazily, he realised that he'd met her gaze and for a moment, his love for her was a secret he shared wordlessly by staring back into her eyes.

_Love?!_

Ashe bolted upright in terror, but was immediately filled with regret. His head heaved like the ships of Derdiru and the monastery bells must have been transplanted inside his skull for that noise to be so loud. He swayed. Byleth caught him.

"Easy there, Ashe," she said, laying him back down, "I'm not quite done yet. Give me a minute or two more and I'll have you feeling better."

Ashe tried to relax, giving a weak smile. His body felt feverish, but he was almost certain that it wasn't the fault of his injuries. Rather, the professor's hand gently pushing his chest back onto what he assumed was a bed was enough to make his heart full to bursting. That was the least of his worries though from what he could feel pooling in his abdomen. _Oh by Sothis, no no nono no. Not here. Not now. Oh goddess have mercy._ He gulped and tried to focus on the emerald light of healing above his head without much success. After a moment or two of biting his inner cheek raw, he felt the throbbing in his temple dissipate like the lifting of fog.

"There we are," Byleth smiled. "How do you feel now?"

"Ah! I uh, m-much better," he stammered. "I'm so, so sorry, it was all my-"

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have scared you like that." She shook her head, still smiling gently. "Here, can you sit up?" She offered her hand, and hesitating he took it, pushing himself upright in the process.

Byleth stood before him, not in the infirmary, but in her room, complete with dusty textbooks and her well used writing desk. It took Ashe a moment to consider the implications but he turned scarlet when he realised.

"P-professor, why am I in your b-bedroom?!"

Byleth blinked. "I had to rush you somewhere to heal you and the dorms were closer than the infirmary."

"Oh! Oh, I see." Ashe allowed himself to breathe.

"Are you alright? And no, I don't just mean your head injury. I'm sorry I startled you earlier but you've been really distracted lately and I wanted to check in on you." Byleth pulled her desk chair over and sat opposite Ashe. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Ashe wriggled uncomfortably. At this point, he was at half mast and full discomfort. _I'll just tell her I haven't been sleeping well. She should hopefully believe that._ He looked up and opened his mouth to speak.

Byleth was blushing and had averted her eyes from his... state...

_Oh goddess._

A heavy silence hung between them. Somewhere outside, a bird crowed in sympathy.

Ashe broke. "Professor, I'm so sorry! So incedibly sorry! This is unbecoming of me as a knight and as your stude-"

"Call me Byleth."

Ashe stopped and stared, mouth open.

Byleth, still scarlet, looked him in the eyes and smiled. "Please, Ashe, we've been through enough together that I'm not your teacher anymore.

"A-Are you certain?"

Byleth nodded, and spoke again. "I thought it might have been just me, because I've... I've never felt anything like this before, but when I catch your eye in meetings or in the dining hall, I..." She stopped, unable to continue, and looked at her shoes.

After a moment, Ashe continued. "It's like a warmth in your chest that blooms out of your soul, am I correct?"

They locked eyes again. Byleth nodded.

"I wasn't even sure myself," Ashe admitted, "but I..." He gulped, shut his eyes, and gripped the fabric of his trousers. "I think I'm in love with you professor!"

He couldnt even bring himself to open his eyes as his confession hung in the air. It was a stifling sensation that clung to his skin, and yet, a weight lifted from his chest.

He breathed in, he breathed out, he waited.

A soft finger traced underneath his chin, tilting his face upwards, and before he even thought to open his eyes, the soft lips he'd dreamed of in many gentle dreams were pressed to his. It felt like the warmth of the sun itself burning into his skin and yet it did not burn. His surprise faded and he pushed back gently into the kiss. She drew backwards, Ashe immediately missing the warmth and tenderness. He opened his eyes to see Byleth gazing at him with all the fondness of the goddess herself.

"I won't ask again," she whispered. "Call me Byleth."

A gasp left Ashe's mouth before he could stop it, but he didn't care a second more. His hands leapt forward to cup Blyeth's face and his lips crashed into hers like the inevitability of the ocean tides. His skin tingled with every caress of her mouth against his, and when his tongue traced her lips and a moan sounded against him, his heat burned within him. He gasped, breaking the kiss, but as his lips left hers, Byleth quickly moved down to his neck and began kissing again. It was like fire across his senses and it was all he could do not to howl. Breathing heavily, he wrapped his hands across her back, desperate to feel her body against his. "Oh by the goddess," he moaned as his cock twitched against her thigh.

"Say my name, Ashe," Byleth panted, peppering kisses across his neck.

"I- oh goddess." His back arched as she sucked delicaltely on his flesh. "B-By-Byleth..."

A guttural noise stirred in her chest as he called her by name, and it resonated though her body into his. Fingers fumbling, Byleth unclasped his cloak, and pressed her lips to his again. Ashe found himself following swiftly behind, unbuttoning her collar, and slipping it off her shoulders and onto the bed beside him. His fingers traced across her collarbones like the path of an arrow and she shivered beneath his touch. "Ashe..."

Ashe broke the kiss and gasped as though he'd never breathed in his whole life. "Oh goddess, even if this is a dream, take me now."

"If you insist," Byleth said under heavy breath. Before he'd even realised what he'd wished for, Ashe's shirt had been flung across the room and Byleth was working his trousers off. His face burned at the sight.

Byleth reached behind to unfasten her own garments, but Ashe stopped her. "Please, allow me." The blush across his face was vivid in the dimmed room light, but the radiant glow in his eyes stopped Byleth in her tracks. She turned around for him, and despite his trembling anticipation, he unfastened each and every clasp in the back of her shirt at an infuriatingly steady pace, his fingers lingering on her skin. The bodice fell from her breast, and she moved to put it aside. Yet, she found herself helplessly unable to move as Ashe's fingers traced forwards across ribs, and as his hands cupped her breasts, she ached into his touch. He kissed delicately along the crook of her neck while his hands worked in tandem, eliciting moans he'd never truly imagined. With each motion, Blyeth felt herself losing more and more control, succumbing to his ministrations.

With one lingering kiss to her neck, Ashe turned her face to his. "Please... Byleth, I want... I need..."

Byleth responded with a fervent kiss. Ashe's hands fumbled with her shorts and stockings between kisses, but soon they were discarded, Byleth positioning herself over Ashe. The blush on his face, decorated by his freckles, suggested this was new for the both of them, so she took his hand in hers and guided his fingers to her folds. As his fingers brushed against her entrance, her eyelids fluttered and a tingling raced up her spine.

"Byleth," he whispered as his fingers slipped inside, one by one, "how does it feel?"

"Amazing," she gasped, "Oh Ashe..."

Ashe gulped and withdrew his hand, earning him a low moan. "I can't hold back Prof- I mean, Byleth." He moved one hand to her hips and the other to his cock, wet with arousal. "May I?"

Byleth didn't reply. Instead, she lowered herself gently downwards, and Ashe almost cried as she gradually enveloped him whole. They both stiffened into the sensation, mouths open in utter ecstasy, breathing laboured.

"Oh my goddess," Ashe panted. "I must... I cannot..."

Byleth nodded her consent, and began moving her hips, overcome with the sensation of him twitching inside of her. His hips found her rhythm, moving into the deepest parts of her. Their moans rose into cries as the pleasure welled within and between them, and with abandon Ashe thrust as Byleth arched again and again. His fingers dug into the flesh of her ass, her fingers intertwined themselves into the sheets. Soon, the passion grew too much. "Byleth... I'm... I..." With a series of thrusts, he pressed even deeper into her and Byleth felt stars in her fingertips. A cry burst from her chest. The energy of the universe seemed to pool inside of her, bursting outwards in a wave of ecstasy to drown her whole. Her walls tightened around Ashe's cock. His mind went numb, and his body seemed to move on it's own. The pleasure raced along his spine in rivers of heat. With a final shout, his body tensed and his release came in a shuddering burst as he held on for dear life, before she slowly collapsed onto his torso with a smile he'd never seen before. As he drifted out of all concentration, his heart leapt that the woman he'd come to love and admire would have a secret smile just for him.


	2. Love in Deep Rivers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old memories, new love, and so much lust. Annette x Mercedes as long-time lovers.

If she thought about it really, really hard, Annette had always known. I mean, how many years had she known these hands, this smile, these lavender eyes that always knew her? She stared up at Mercie, breathless and awed. “You’re as gorgeous as the goddess herself…” she whispered. And she meant it. Beams of sunlight may as well have been falling from the heavens into her chest for the way that Mercie made her feel right now. This angel, kneeling next to her on the bed, with one hand on Annette’s reddened cheek and the other pushing a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear, could surely not be real.

Mercedes giggled, obscuring her smile behind one hand in the way Annette had seen countless times before. “You’re exaggerating,” she said dismissively.

Annette cracked a grin. “And since when have I ever exaggerated about how amazing you are?”

“Hmm…” Mercedes pondered for a moment, tilting her head to one side. “Oh, I know! Do you remember, back in the days we were at the School of Sorcery, when I singed my scarf with a fireball I’d cast? You wouldn’t let a single one of our classmates laugh at me. Do you remember what you said?”

Annette laughed and sat up to re-enact the scene. “How could I forget! I was so cross with them that I yelled, ‘She’ll be a better mage than you, I swear it by the mountains of Fodlan’s throat!’” She pouted dramatically, pointing her finger at the imaginary crowd of students beside them.

Mercedes’ laugh bubbled out of her like a spring of cool water. “You always had such a flair for the dramatic.”

“Well someone had to stick up for you,” she retorted. Memories from their youth rolled into her mind one by one. She remembered Mercie dismissing her outlandish statement with a patient smile, and the smell of singed silk from the hem of her scarf. She remembered sneaking out to the shops one afternoon to buy a replacement. She remembered the joy in Mercie’s eyes as she sheepishly gave it to her, helping her friend to wrap the caramel fabric across her shoulders, and her giggle as Annette’s fingers brushed the nape of her neck. Annette blushed at the next memory.

“What is it, Annie?”

Annette looked into Mercie’s kind eyes and smiled. “You know the day I bought you that scarf?”

“Of course I do.”

“I vowed something that day that I don’t think I ever said aloud.” Annette clasped both of Mercedes’ hands in hers. “I vowed that for the rest of my life, I wanted to do everything I could ever do to keep you happy, to see your smile, and to hear that ridiculously cute laugh of yours.”

Mercedes stifled a chuckle. Annie grinned. “That one! Right there!” She let go of Mercedes hands to begin a relentless attack on her sensitive sides. Her fingers knew exactly where to land to make Mercedes fall on the bed in a squirming fit of laughter, which now billowed through the room in rivers and waves. It only made Annette laugh more, and soon the pair were exhausted and teary-eyed.

“My ribs!” Mercedes protested breathlessly. “Annie, you’re so cruel!” She remembered their first tickle fight, rolling on the floor of Annette’s room, clothes dishevelled and hair a mess. She remembered the blush on Annie’s face when she’d first bridged the distance between their lips. The innocence and effortlessness of their hands roaming each other’s bodies for the first time. Warmth pooled between Mercedes’ legs as she recalled the first time they’d touched each other in places they had scarcely knew how to name. “How much we’ve grown since those days,” she mused aloud.

Annette’s hands knew what Mercedes meant, one cupping the side of her lover’s face and the other reaching around and pulling Mercedes’ body flush against her own. One leg naturally slid between Mercedes’ and the wetness Annette felt on her thigh confirmed what she already knew. “Well,” she said, “maybe we should re-enact some more memories tonight.”

Mercedes eyes fluttered shut and she pressed her lips to Annette’s. She let herself see Annette, all of her, with the tips of her fingers and the palms of her hands. She could name every valley and curve with her tongue if she so desired, as Annette had allowed her so many times before. The traces of battle wounds in snaking scars and harsh dimples still saddened her, but in a way that only made her fall more and more in love with her childhood friend. _I’ll protect you_ , she promised, reaching her hand inside Annette’s blouse to massage her breasts. Annette moaned quietly and bit down gently on Mercedes’ lip. Her thigh pressed urgently between Mercedes’ legs as her friend kneaded her sensitive breast, and her nipples hardened under the attention.

It wasn’t long before they began their undressing ritual, both ladies flushed with desire. They took turns, as always, to unbutton each other’s blouses, replacing the fabric with coverings of kisses, worshiping each other’s bodies. Skirts came off next, then the slow unpeeling of stockings from each other’s thighs. Only lace and thin cotton were left to remove as their hands trembled longingly across flesh. It was patient. It was quiet. It was bliss.

“Would you like me to start first?” Mercedes asked, nibbling Annette’s ear lobe.

Annette shook her head, much to Mercedes’ surprise. “I have another idea I’d like to try.” She gave a long sensual lick along Mercedes’ neck, catching the blonde’s breath in her throat. “If you trust me, that is…”

“Of course I do, Annie,” Mercedes replied. “Although, we may have to discuss your choice of books again if you’re getting more wild ideas.”

Annette smiled. “You’ll be glad I found this one.” She moved her body over Mercedes and whispered in her ear. “Lie still and join in when you get the idea.”

Savouring the reddened blush that danced on Mercedes’ face as she spoke, Annette slowly turned around and knelt over her friend’s body at a new angle they’d not tried before. Annette sucked one of her own fingers slowly, making sure the motion was visible, and almost imperceptibly traced her finger across Mercedes’ folds. Mercedes, impatient and sensitive to the slightest touch from her lover, gasped at the sensation, her hips gently bucking upwards. Annette moved again, a little firmer. The motion sent constant waves of heat through Mercedes’ spine over and over.

Just as she was beginning to lose herself in the sensation, Annette moved lower over her folds. Curious, Mercedes waited. Then, she moaned deep and guttural as Annette began using her tongue instead. “A-annie!”

Annette simply hummed in response, tongue lapping gently between Mercedes’ folds. _Best. Book. Ever_ , she decided. “Hold still, Mercie.”

The hum from Annette’s mouth as she moved sent pangs of arousal through Mercedes’ body and she could hardly restrain her movements. “But… oh…” Her head spun with every motion. “It’s not… clean… surely…”

Annette licked more fervently in reply. “Mm -- you have -- no idea -- how sweet – you – taste -- Mercie.” Each phrase was punctuated with a long, slow caress along her slit.

“I had… no idea… ooh…” Mercedes inhaled deeply, her eyes glazing over. Her body heaved with every touch and her heart was pounding through her ribcage as though her spirit was halfway out of her body. She could think of two things in her delirium; how amazing this felt, and how she needed to release this desire into Annette.

Annette, too busy enjoying the musky taste of Mercedes’ juices, moved herself a little for a better angle, unknowingly positioning herself slightly closer to Mercedes’ face. Mercedes realised what she could do in thanks.

But before she could act, Annette suddenly changed tactics, sliding a finger into the pooling warmth between Mercedes’ legs. She moaned with no chance to collect her thoughts, as Annette added another and began stroking her inner walls. Her toes curled and her body shuddered. Annette moved her digits in the way they had done so many times before, knowing exactly where to strike to elicit the purest and loudest moans from her lover. But this time she had an ace up her sleeve. Just when Mercedes’ breathing became slightly faster, slightly more undone, Annette began mouthing at her clit.

Mercedes couldn’t even try to withhold the cry that rose from deep within her abdomen. It forced its way out of her lungs and into her throat before she even knew it was happening. “Annie! Oh goddess! It’s… oh goddess,” she pleaded. It was as though the bed had fallen out from beneath her. The only thing tethering her to this mortal plane was the incredible sensations Annette was drawing out from her and her body began moving without command, shaking with each touch.

Annette knew she was close, and it was time for the finale. She flattened her tongue against Mercedes’ clit and sucked. Mercedes cried out. Then, with a little concentration, she channelled the smallest amount of magical energy into the fingers deep inside her folds and let it go, casting this spell with all the love she could muster.

It was like a meteor had exploded within Mercedes chest. Tears welled in her eyes. Stars burst in her skull. The waves of pleasure she’d been experiencing emerged in a torrent of desire and her mind went numb. Her body convulsed so violently she was sure she would die. The wave crashed downwards through her body and she felt all control leave her, liquid squirting from her folds across Annette’s face and she gasped for the air that had been forced from her lungs.

Annette was astounded at how well this had worked. She’d always been able to please Mercie, but never to this extent. Her mouth filled with sweet, musky liquid as Mercedes shuddered in ecstasy. She was sure in that moment she could die happy, Mercedes’ delicate body on her tongue and in her hands. She was about to make a mental note to save this for Mercie’s next birthday, when soft hands grabbed her hips and tore her backwards.

Without hesitation, Mercedes pulled Annette onto her face and plunged her tongue into her already dripping folds, overtaken with the desire to express this feeling that racked her body. No need to recover; it was all she could do to not tear Annette’s flesh with her nails as she sucked and licked deeper and deeper within her lover.

Annette howled with lust as Mercedes’ tongue danced over and over again at her entrance. Each plunging lick stole more breath from her lungs, and she steadied herself with one hand and covered her mouth with the other. It was warm and deep and almost more than she could bear. Muffled cries burst from her chest with each stroke of Mercedes’ tongue, but Mercedes was not finished yet. Still drinking Annette in, she reached up and took Annette’s hand from her mouth, desperate to hear her voice as hers had rung out. Tugging Annette’s hand downwards, she placed their fingers onto Annie’s clit. Annette lost all control. She cried out as Mercedes licked and licked inside of her folds, all while moving Annette’s fingers across her own clit. It was torturously wonderful. Her hips ground downwards onto Mercie’s tongue without hesitation and as the surge of desire built inside her, her moaning grew in pitch, higher and higher. Her body tingled, her mind screamed. Her fingers moved on her own now, and her orgasm came hard and fast as Mercedes licked in long deep strokes to take her over the edge. Liquid poured into Mercedes mouth, sticky and sweet, and she moaned at the taste, sending a final shiver along Annette’s spine. Once she had drunk her fill, she released her tense grip on Annette’s hips, allowing her to climb off gingerly and lie beside her lover.

The only sound for a while was their laboured breathing and the stillness of the night. It could have been years, it could have been seconds, but eventually Mercedes began to giggle. Annette turned to her friend, involuntarily joining in the laughter. “What?” she tried to ask. “What’s so funny?”

Mercedes breathed heavily and replied, “Where in all of Fodlan did someone come up with this?”

Annette smiled. “You know, I would tell you, but my brain has stopped working and I can’t remember for the life of me.”

Mercedes snuggled closer, planting small kisses on Annette’s forehead. “I simply have to thank them for such a great idea. Although, I have a feeling that it was as good as it was because the person following their instructions is very gifted.”

“I think you’re forgetting how amazing your own work was, Mercie,” Annette grinned.

“Well then,” Mercedes said, cradling Annie’s head into her bosom, “I guess we’ll have to call it even.” And with a yawn, they held each other in warm embrace in a satisfied and deep slumber.


	3. Brothers in Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dedue takes a life threatening blow for Felix on the battlefield, Felix almost gives his life to keep him alive. Instead, he unwittingly gives Dedue his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Blood and gore in the first part. Turns out this is a game about war. Skip to below the first asterisk to avoid.

“No, no nonono, stay with me. Goddess damnit stay with me Dedue! HEALER! I NEED A DAMN HEALER!”

Felix screamed to the wind hoping someone, anyone would hear his plea, but from the thicket where he had pulled Dedue’s half-conscious form, there seemed to be no-one to help him.

“Shit, Dimitri’s gonna kill me…” Felix pulled at his hair in frustration. “How in Sothis…?” Warm liquid crusted on his forehead and Felix drew his hand back, and almost vomited at the sight of his comrade’s blood on his hands. Even having seen this before didn’t make it any easier.

Still no sign of help on the horizon. Felix punched the ground in frustration. “Fuck, I gotta do it myself. Here’s to not screwing this up.” He gingerly shifted the large chunks of shrapnel from Dedue’s abdomen, the remnants of a devasting magic spell. Felix was okay against that sort of magic; he’d worked with it many times in his mortal savant training. _So why on Fòdlan did he jump in front of me?_

Gritting his teeth, Felix shook the thought from his head. “Come on, now, concentrate dammit!” As he picked out the last significant pieces of metal, he winced at the huge pool of blood forming at his knees, flowing steadily from Dedue’s ribcage. _Am I already too late?_ He closed his eyes and tried not to think about it. He took the deepest breath he could muster and tried to summon as much healing magic as he could. It wasn’t his forte but Sothis be damned if he was going to give up here.

“Come on… come on…” He felt a small tingle in his fingertips. “A little… more…” Sweat dripped across his bloodstained brow as the tingle slowly became a ripple in the air at his hands. Very faintly, the air around him began to glow, just enough, just maybe.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his shoulder. “Felix! Oh goddess, hold on, let us help you.” That voice… Mercedes? He didn’t care.

“Shut up! I gotta… save… shit!” Felix screwed his eyes shut even tighter and forced the last dregs of his energy through his hands, placing them on the bloody mess that was Dedue’s chest. As the magic leapt from within him, he felt the ground underneath him spin, and the darkness behind his eyes swallowed him whole.

*

Felix gasped, the air smashing into his lungs like a mace. He bolted upright and immediately grabbed his head as the world around him threatened to twist his eyeballs from their sockets. “Fuck!” he cursed, squeezing his eyes shut and taking another breath through gritted teeth.

“Gently, Felix.” The gruff voice sounded from beside him.

He opened his eyes again, turning to see the Duscur man sitting upright next to him in a hospital bed. Looking down, he found himself in a similar state and realised they were in the infirmary back at Garreg Mach Monastery. He sat for a moment, processing what was happening, and soon the memories flooded back in a surge of putrid regret. Trying not to vomit, he swallowed thickly. His breathing slowed after a moment and the ache in his head began to subside, but he certainly wasn’t going to try standing just yet. He shuffled backwards, plumping his pillow and leaning back against the bedhead.

“Are you alright, Felix?”

He looked back at Dedue, whose dark skin was bandaged from left shoulder to hip and whose chest rose and fell in gentle rhythm with his breathing. He was alive. Somehow. Felix was filled with relief.

And rage.

“Yeah, I’m just perfect Dedue. Couldn’t be better.” The venom in his words was not even remotely disguised.

Dedue either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “I’m glad. I… I heard that you tried to heal me.”

“Not that I’d have needed to if you hadn’t tried to use your chest as a shield.”

“I was only-”

“You were only trying to get yourself killed, you moron!” Felix snapped. “What the fuck were you even thinking? Or aren’t there any braincells left in that thick skull of yours? I would have been fine, for Sothis’ sake, so why in damnation did you step in front of me? You know what?” Felix threw the sheets from his legs and moved to the edge of the bed. “I’m through. Dimitri can have you as his loyal pet, but if you ever expect to see me on the battlefield alongside you ever again, I swear I’ll-”

“You’ll what, Felix?”

Manuela’s heels clicked on the floor of the infirmary as she and Byleth entered the room. Neither seemed impressed.

“Stay seated, Felix. We need to talk.” Byleth crossed his arms and glared menacingly enough that even Felix could see it wasn’t worth fighting.

His lecture lasted at least an hour, and by the end, Dedue and Felix were both thoroughly chastised, sitting on their hospital beds in shameful silence. In summary, Byleth ran through exactly why they were so gravely injured, and it was all down to idiotic disobedience. Dedue had rushed in front of Felix to take the blow despite the professor’s instructions, and then Felix had almost exhausted his magic reserves and then his vital organs trying to heal his comrade. Both were called morons, and both were to be punished.

But this?

“Felix,” Dedue spoke after the teachers left, “I apologise for my reckless behaviour, and I understand your resentment towards me. But this is our punishment, so I hope we can be amenable to each other this month.”

Felix grunted in response. A whole month without leaving Dedue’s side? Of rubbing medicine into his wounds? Sleeping on the floor of his room? “We’ll see.” He paused for a moment. “And I’m sorry for yelling.”

Dedue smiled. From anyone else, it would sound insincere, but he knows Felix well by now. This is plenty. “How is your head?”

“Better, I guess. Your side?”

“It stings, but not more than I can bear. Manuela is going to do a final examination this afternoon, and I will likely be discharged.”

“Well, out of the pan and into the fire. Let’s hope I don’t kill you by the end of the month.”

“Apparently, I’m more likely to beat you to it.”

Felix huffed. “I didn’t know you joked.”

“You never listened enough to notice.”

*

Felix blushed for the fourth time this week. Dedue sat in front of him, shirtless, on the edge of his bed. Felix’s own futon was pushed to one side to make space in the already cramped room, which seemed even smaller when filled with Dedue’s enormous frame. It was hard enough to feel comfortable without being constantly reminded of how close together they had to be. And now as a part of his punishment, Felix again had to tend Dedue’s wounds from the battle that cost his freedom.

“Felix?”

Snapping out of his frustrated daze, Felix shook his head. “I’m getting there, hold on.” He unscrewed the vial of ointment in his hands and joined Dedue on the bed. The mattress shifted slightly under his weight as he moved around behind the larger man, pouring some of the thick cream into his hands. Rubbing them together to warm it, he gingerly placed his hands on Dedue’s side, trying to push those intrusive thoughts from his mind again. Thoughts of how soft his skin was beneath his touch, of how each muscle in Dedue’s back flexed slightly as he moved his hands across the sensitive parts of his body, of how…

Felix felt his cheeks flush. _Shit, I gotta distract myself. Talk about something, anything._

“Muscles.”

“Pardon?” Dedue turned his head backwards in confusion.

“Y-your muscles.” Felix stuttered. “How many hours?” _What the FUCK Felix?!? You couldn’t say literally anything else??_

“You mean the hours of training I’ve done?” Dedue asked.

Felix grunted in response, desperately hoping his blush was out of view.

“Hmm… I cannot say I can recall, but I have trained in service of his highness daily since my employment. Excluding illness and travel, of course.”

Felix nodded, and as he moved his hands in circular motions along Dedue’s scarring, he tried to distract himself by counting the years that Dedue had been by Dimitri’s side. They were still children when… it… happened, so it must be-

Dedue winced loudly.

“Oh, sorry.” Felix hastily withdrew his hands.

“No, it is fine. It will sting because it heals.”

Hesitantly, Felix placed his hands back onto the wound, actually paying attention this time. “Better?”

Dedue made a noise that was probably agreeance.

They sat in silence for a while, Felix applying the treatment and Dedue only shifting in discomfort occasionally.

“I’m done.” Felix announced, wiping his hands on a nearby cloth and screwing the lid back onto the vial.

“Thank you.”

“Not necessary.” Felix grumbled, moving to get off the bed, but his hand slipped on the glass vial, and it sailed over the edge. “Shit!” He stumbled forward to grab it. Stretching out, the vial was just in his reach, and he seized it triumphantly, while losing his balance. His foot caught in the bedding and he landed shoulder-first with a crunch on the floor.

“Felix!”

Pain raced through Felix’s right arm and he yelped in agony. Gritting his teeth, he tried to move but there were already hands around his frame keeping him from sitting up.

“Don’t move,” Dedue ordered.

“I’m fine, I just-“ Felix winced through gritted teeth.

“You are not fine, and you will wait while I examine you.”

Felix tried to argue but his shoulder protested. Dedue carefully examined the injury, pressing lightly on Felix’s skin occasionally to find any breakages. After what felt like an eon, Dedue scooped Felix upright and sat him in his lap.

“W-what the f-”

“Please calm down, Felix. I need to remove your shirt to be sure.” Dedue’s fingers began to work Felix’s shirt open and move the fabric aside.

“Goddess be damned, Dedue! I’m okay, I swear!” He tried to wriggle out of Dedue’s grip to no avail. The Duscur man had a firm grip on Felix’s ribs as he undressed him with his free hand. He felt his skin burning under Dedue’s fingers, and as the fabric was pulled aside, his heart raced. _I’m not… there’s no… why am I…_ He clenched his jaw and turned his face away, sincerely hoping Dedue didn’t correctly diagnose his blushing.

But when Dedue traced his fingers along Felix’s collarbone, a moan slipped from his throat.

“Is it painful?”

Felix wanted to reply with all of his soul that it was, but not because of the injury. “Just… the shock… I think,” was all he could manage.

Dedue frowned. He continued working his fingertips towards the shoulder, and he found a small patch of swelling, but nothing that could be a break or fracture. Felix bit his tongue raw and tried counting his breaths; anything to avoid arousal.

“Bruised, but not broken,” Dedue announced, finally. Felix fought back tears of relief as the Duscur man released his grip, and snatching the buttons of his shirt closed, he stormed towards the door.

“Where are you-?” Dedue called out.

“I need air.” Felix snapped, slamming the door behind him.

*

The sun had set hours ago, but sleep would not come for Felix. The walk through the monastery had only worsened his mood. Sometime after sunset, he’d returned to the dorms, hastily unrolling his bedding and crawling in, pointedly ignoring Dedue’s questions and turning his back. The last thing he wanted was for Dedue to see him at half-mast.

And that was the problem. It was close to midnight and his cock was still throbbing with arousal. No matter what he thought of, his mind inevitably wandered back to Dedue’s broad shoulders, dark skin, and tender touch. Felix cursed himself as he longed to feel those fingers along his collarbone once more, perhaps even his lips around-

With a silent huff, he resigned to fate. Rolling over, he checked if Dedue was sleeping. There was no movement and his breathing was steady and slow. _Let’s get this over with then_. He slid his pants downward over the curve of his ass and lifted his knees, so the fabric wouldn’t rustle as he moved. With his left hand, he reached downwards and gripped his cock. Working slowly, he moved his hands up and down along the shaft, his cock throbbing with relief at the long-awaited touch. Felix moved steadily, occasionally using his thumb along the leaking tip. His breath quickened, his eyes closed, and his mind was filled with Dedue’s broad figure between his legs. He imagined that mouth wrapped around him, taking him deeper and deeper into his throat. Before he could stop himself, a whine left his lips, and he slapped his right hand over his mouth, jolting the bruise on his shoulder and causing him to yelp.

“Felix?”

_Shit! Shit shit shit…_

“Felix, are you alright?”

“I- I’m fine.” His hand clenched around his cock, frozen in fear of being caught.

Before he could react, Dedue had crossed the floor to check, kneeling beside him, and he pulled the blankets aside, revealing Felix half naked and flushed with arousal.

Neither knew how to react for a while. 

Dedue moved first, almost slamming his head into the floor as he bowed by Felix’s side. “Felix- my apologies- I did not mean-”

Felix swore, and pulled his pants up, hastily scooting away from Dedue. “Fuck, I said I was fine, ah shit…”

“Let me leave you in privacy at once.”

“What, so you can listen to me jacking off as you stand outside the door?”

“That’s not-”

“Ah shit, I’m just- Ugh.” Felix turned away, before mumbling words he didn’t even realise he said out loud. “It’s all your fault anyway.”

“Pardon?”

Felix froze. “Did I… aloud…? Tell me you didn’t hear that, Dedue.”

Dedue paused. “I would be lying if I did. Please explain how this is my fault.”

“I…” Felix’s mind raced, his face burning like the fire of a thousand suns. “It’s not…”

“If this is my fault in any manner, I will accept responsibility.”

“You’ll what?!”

Dedue again bowed deeply to the floor. “Let me help, Felix, if this is my doing.”

Felix couldn’t even react. Any coherent thought had left his mind. There he was, half hard and caught in the act by the man who he’d been imagining blowing him not two minutes earlier, and now Dedue wanted to… help? “But...?”

“If you need me, I am yours.”

Something tripped in Felix’s brain, sending a wave of desire straight to his cock, and he moaned involuntarily. “I can’t stop you, can I?” he asked.

“Tell me what you want.”

Felix shuddered. “Oh by the goddess, get over here.”

Shedding his pants again, Felix tossed the bed linen aside, while Dedue shuffled forward on his knees. Gently, Dedue placed one hand around Felix’s back and lay him back down on the mattress. Felix was already half-gone the moment Dedue’s hand wrapped around his cock. He moaned even louder as it moved in a steady rhythm, warm and firm and so much better than his own.

“Is this good?” Dedue asked. Felix swore. Dedue continued.

Dedue kept stroking, forcing more and more curses from Felix’s lips. He’d never heard such profanity in his life, but coming from Felix, it sounded like indulgent praise, and he blushed with delight.

“Dedue… please…”

“Yes, Felix?”

“More...” he moaned, “more… your mouth…”

Dedue nodded. He was not uninformed of such practices, and he moved himself between Felix’s legs, lowering his mouth downwards. He took all of Felix’s cock between his lips.

Felix couldn’t tear his eyes away as it happened. Dedue’s eyes fluttered closed as he took him whole, and in the cover of dim moonlight, it was more delightful an image that Felix could have dreamed. The sudden warmth and wetness around him made his knees buckle and his muscles tense. His eyes rolled backwards. “Oh, fuck!”

Dedue began to move his mouth up and down, flattening his tongue against Felix’s shaft, salty and hot with precum. For extra effect, he reached his hands under Felix’s ass and began lifting him from beneath in time with his mouth, humming with approval as Felix wailed in delight. He would do this correctly for the man who saved his life, even if he was enjoying the experience as well.

Felix felt the lust tearing through his body stronger than he’d ever felt before. Dedue’s firm grip on his ass as his cock pushed deeper into his mouth was more than he could bear. Any pretence of keeping his voice down was shattered in that one motion and he cried out over and over. His voice hitched in his throat, causing his voice to break. He covered his mouth to muffle the sound, but Dedue wanted more, and only increased his intensity, until Felix’s hand couldn’t disguise his noises of pleasure.

Soon, it was too much. Felix felt it behind his eyes first, as the orgasm began to rack his body, spreading through his fingertips and along his spine and core. His toes curled, and his thighs tensed. His gripped one hand in Dedue’s hair, causing Dedue to moan, and the resonance that pulsed through his cock sent him over the edge. His hips bucked upwards and he came in his mouth. The release burned across his skin, only deepening in intensity as Dedue sucked out every drop from within him. His mind was numb to everything but the pleasure of Dedue around him.

Swallowing thickly, Dedue lifted his mouth away from Felix’s cock and sat up. “Was I of good service?” he asked.

Felix couldn’t even breathe, let alone respond with words. A low guttural breath was all he could muster.

Dedue smiled. “I am glad.”

Felix slapped the bedding beside him, inviting Dedue to lay with him. It was a squeeze, but he snuggled himself alongside Felix, pulling him against his chest. Both men blushed furiously at the contact, but Felix was too satisfied to protest and Dedue watched him fall into a peaceful sleep in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate description: Potty mouth brat gets exactly what he wanted. The average human swears three times a day, but this is only due to Filthy-Mouthed Felix, who is an anomaly and should not have been counted.


	4. What needs doing must be done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude causes mayhem, Sylvain gets horny, and Dimitri is easily flustered. You know what you're here for.

It started as a bet. A stupid, idiotic bet. Sylvain knew he was the hottest man at Garreg Mach Monastery and he knew how to flaunt it. But this? He shook his head. This was too surely too far.

With gritted teeth, Sylvain adjusted his… outfit… and threw his riding cloak around him. _Claude, I will probably not make this out alive, but I’ll die before I lose to you._ Before heading next door, he paced his room to gather as much bravado as he could muster, while his mind churned over the previous week’s events.

“If I do as you wish, will you truly promise to improve your behaviour?”

Dimitri stood in front of Sylvain, an angry scowl over his features and his arms crossed. It was the third time that week the crown prince had caught him… courting… the ladies.

“What’d I just say? Of course I’ll behave. A knight of Faerghus never goes back on his word.” Sylvain grinned, and hoped to think nothing more of this conversation. He’d just have to avoid getting caught next time.

Dimitri huffed something about upholding his end of the bargain and stormed off. Sylvain breathed a sigh of relief, stretched, and decided to see if there were any cute catches in the gardens.

“An interesting conversation, hey Sylvain?”

Claude, out of nowhere, appeared in front of him, leaning on a nearby pillar and grinning like the cat with the cream.

Sylvain arched an eyebrow. “Hey Claude, any reason you were eavesdropping?”

“You have to make your own fun in this place,” he shrugged. “Teach is always on my back, so if I can’t make it in my own house, where better to turn than his Highness?” He erected himself and bowed with such satire he might as well have bathed in the stuff.

Sylvain smirked. “Fair enough. Wouldn’t be so enjoyable if he didn’t make it this easy for us.”

“You know,” Claude continued, stepping forward to circle Sylvain in the middle of the entrance hall, “we could have even more fun if you wanted…”

“Uh… not sure I catch your drift?” His neck burned at how close Claude suddenly was.

“All I’m saying is that your reputation precedes you. You’re apparently a man of… persuasive character when it comes to the ladies.”

Sylvain tried not to let his anger show on his face. _It’s not all I’m good for dammit._

“I’ve even heard your persuasions go further than that.” Claude whispered low into Sylvain’s ear, relishing the reaction it got him. “To the other sex.”

Sylvain snorted. “Well then, these rumours are wilder than I thought! Can’t say I’ve actually tried in that department, Claude.”

Claude tutted. “I think you’re selling yourself short. Even I can help people change classes from time to time…” His breath tickled against Sylvain’s neck and for good measure, he ran a long finger up the front of Sylvain’s thigh, stopping just below the hip.

Arousal shot through Sylvain like an arrow. His face turned scarlet and his knees buckled. Catching himself, he furtively glanced around the hall. None of his classmates were near, and it seemed their conversation was ignored by the few knights present. _Oh my goddess, what in Fòdlan is happening right now?_

“I know!” Claude loudly announced, scaring the life out of him. “Let’s have a wager!”

Speechless, Sylvain just stood motionless, and Claude continued.

“I will take all of your monastery duties- ALL of them- for a whole month,” he said, “if you can seduce Prince Dimitri.”

The words registered in Sylvain’s brain, but the gears needed to actually make sense of them, let alone respond, had ground to a halt. Claude grinned at him with his trademark grin. “Well? Whaddaya say?”

“Uh…” Sylvain shook himself out of his stupor. “I’m sorry, hold up, let me get this straight. You want me, Sylvain Womaniser Gautier, to seduce the enormous stick in the mud that is the crown prince of Faerghus, Dimitri Blaiddyd?”

“Well you won’t know how enormous his stick is unless you try,” Claude winked. Sylvain threw up in his mouth a little. “That is, unless you concede…”

“Concede what?”

“That I’m the sexiest man in the whole of Garreg Mach Monastery.”

Sylvain narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would! I’d also make you apologise to every lady you’ve ever wooed, or would woo, and you’d have to send them to me instead. So… do we have a-”

“Oh it’s on.” Sylvain grinned, stretching his hand out. There was no way he was planning to lose to this conniving shit anytime soon.

He spent the next week carefully selecting his time with Dimitri, talking to him about the ladies and how to woo them, occasionally trying out his pick-up lines under the pretence of guidance. It seemed to be working quite well, and thus his plan began to take shape. Every mention of the opposite sex and every hint of sexuality drew deeper and deeper blushes out of the prince. By the fifth day, Sylvain had him wrapped around his finger. During training, he pointed out the forms of the other women around them and whispered suggestive things in Dimitri’s ear. The final touch was during their own sparring match, when Sylvain called a break and ripped his shirt over his shoulders. Not breaking eye contact with Dimitri, he tipped his flask of water into his mouth, deliberately spilling some to trickle down his toned chest and dampen the waistband of his trousers. He couldn’t help but laugh as Dimitri turned scarlet and rushed over.

“For the goddess’ sake, Sylvain! Show some modesty!”

“Your Highness, I’m sorry, it was just too hot to keep my shirt on any longer,” Sylvain drawled.

“Don’t you care that every woman in this place is staring?!”

“Not even slightly. Unless, I’ve accidentally gotten you all hot and bothered, Dimitri…?” He finished with a wink.

Steam billowed from the prince’s ears and his complexion turned redder still. “Please.” He muttered, thrusting Sylvain’s shirt into his hands.

Sylvain ceded, pulling the shirt over his head, but not with a few final blows to the prince’s pride. “Surely you’ve had a few lucky ladies take a glance at what’s under your royal garments before?”

Silence.

With feigned surprise, Sylvain gasped and lowered his voice. “Not even one, Dimitri?

“…not even one, Sylvain. I’m planning to be a decent man and save myself.”

“But how on earth are you going to please your wife-to-be if you can’t even bear to undress for her?”

Dimitri looked up in surprise. “I- I’d never even thought…” He furrowed his brow in concentration.

“Tell you what,” Sylvain whispered. “Tomorrow night, how ‘bout I swing past your dorm and give you a few pointers. It’s certainly best to be prepared, and there’s no better teacher in this field I guarantee. I’ll show you exactly what you can expect on your wedding night.”

To his shock, Dimitri slowly nodded. “If I must learn, this is probably for the best. 8 o clock sharp at my door?”

Sylvain grinned. “Consider it a date.”

But now, standing in front of Dimitri’s door at a few minutes to eight, he regretted everything. He slapped his face gently. _Come on, Sylvain, keep it together._ He rapped on the door, and it immediately swung open. Dimitri wordlessly invited him in. Sylvain nodded and stepped inside, steeling himself as he heard Dimitri fastening the door.

“I don’t think we’d like to be disturbed as we discuss such… delicate subject matters,” Dimitri began as he clicked the locks in place. “I must admit I’m quite nervous, but I’m sure you’re already-” He turned around and quite literally choked on his sentence.

Standing before him, Sylvain was clothed in nothing his underwear and a pair of thigh high stockings, the cloak he’d worn pooled in a heap on the floor.

Dimitri collapsed backwards against the door. “What in the name of the goddess do you think you’re doing?!” He cried. “I swear to all that is holy, Sylv-”

“Shh!” Sylvain hissed. “You want the whole dorm to know what’s going on in here?!”

Dimitri blanched even whiter. “You’d better bloody explain yourself then!” he snarled.

Sylvain approached slowly, aware that the prince was desperately clinging to the door for support, and tried not to grin. _Well, at least I got a reaction_. “You wanted to know what your wedding night would be like, right?”

Dimitri nodded.

“Expect something like this.” He gave a small twirl and a smile. “Your bride, undressed, in front of you. If you can’t handle _me_ in this state, what kind of mess would you have been in front of her?”

Dimitri stiffened, and nodded again.

Sylvain stepped in to meet Dimitri, almost forcing him into the wood of the door. “The best way for you to learn is through _hands on_ experience.” With that, he traced a finger under Dimitri’s chin and along his Adam’s apple. Dimitri flushed with every shade of red known under Sothis and gulped. Leaning in the same way that Claude had done to arouse him, Sylvain brushed his lips against Dimitri’s ear. “Do you trust me?” he whispered.

Dimitri let out a strangled noise as he tried to reply. He cleared his throat and tried to continue. “Y-yes. B-but I have one important question.”

“Go on,” Sylvain pulled back, meeting the Dimitri’s eyes. It was only a moment before Dimitri hastily averted his gaze, and Sylvain smiled. _I’m having way more fun than I thought I would… maybe this will actually be alright._

“What on earth am I supposed to do about… this…” Dimitri shifted uncomfortably, and Sylvain realised he’d already gotten him hard. A pang of arousal leapt to his own cock, surprising himself.

“Your highness, an erection is perfectly nat-”

“Goddess be dammed, Sylvain, I know what an erection is!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I…” Dimitri sputtered for a moment. “Surely, me being in this state as a result of this,” he gestured vaguely at Sylvain’s nakedness, “is uncomfortable. For the both of us.”

Sylvain cocked his head to one side, realising that while he was definitely aroused, he sure didn’t hate this scenario. He decided not to share that aloud. “It takes more than that to embarrass me,” he shrugged. “Besides, if it’s for the benefit of the future king of Faerghus, you could probably ask me for worse.”

Dimitri breathed in deeply and released the air in a huff of resignation. “What needs doing must be done. What would you have me do?”

“Alright, come on over to the bed, your highness.” Sylvain took Dimitri’s reluctant hand and led from the safety of the door. He could feel the prince’s racing pulse as they touched, and he decided to test the waters a bit further. “Although, I should call you by name if we are to make this as realistic as possible. Is that ok, Dimitri?”

His pulse quickened at Sylvain’s suggestion. “I… I suppose you are right. But what should I call you then?”

“Whatever feels natural.”

“Oh. I… of course, _my beloved_.” Dimitri spoke those last two words so quietly that Sylvain almost gasped in pleasure. _Oh my goddess, how is that so sexy? Gotta try that out sometime_. In a bid for distraction, Sylvain gently pushed Dimitri down to sit on the bed, and stood in front of him, deciding to imitate the sexiest teacher he knew- Byleth. _Time to be firm and shameless._

“First lesson,” he began, “is in touching.”

“Touching?”

Sylvain nodded. “You have to get used to being physically intimate with your partner. Take your time and try and map out their body as though you are mapping a battlefield.”

“Hmm… I see… so I can exploit their weaknesses!” Dimitri exclaimed.

“Exactly! You want to lead and control this battle, so get to know the terrain you’re working on.” Sylvain took a deep breath. “Are you ready for the demonstration?” he asked Dimitri aloud, but internally, it felt more like he was asking himself.

Dimitri, now fuelled by the battle analogy, had forgotten exactly what that would entail and eagerly consented.

Sylvain walked over to Dimitri, swung his legs over his lap, and straddled the prince, his soft stockings brushing his legs. Whatever stupor Dimitri was in a moment ago had vanished, and a cry got caught in his throat.

“Shh,” Sylvain crooned. “It’s alright, I’ve got you. Just relax into the sensations. If you need me to stop at any point, just say ‘Faerghus’, ok? We call that a safe word and I will completely stop if you say it.” As he spoke, he sat himself down in Dimitri’s lap, their erections so impossibly close that if Sylvain wanted, all he needed to do was shift slightly forward. Nonetheless, he began to trace one finger along Dimitri’s jawline, searching for a reaction. As he reached the point where his chin and neck met, a small gasp burst from Dimitri’s lips, and he raced to cover his mouth to hide the sound. Sylvain stopped him. “This is how you find which parts to focus on. Let me hear you.”

Dimitri all but whimpered as Sylvain unbuttoned his blouse, finding small patches of sensitive skin to tease, and as he toyed with Dimitri’s waistband, his fingers found a spot so reactive that Dimitri’s hips bucked upwards, bridging the distance between their erections. Sylvain gasped, but Dimitri was fortunately in to much pleasure to notice.

“Oh goddess, this is embarrassing.” Dimitri whined.

“Well, I think you have the idea of this demonstration,” Sylvain said, trying to hide the fluster in his voice. He coughed. “Now it’s your turn.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Demonstrate that you can find my weaknesses.”

Dimitri closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began. He lifted Sylvain off his lap, impressing Sylvain with his raw strength, and laid him down on the bed. “A better view of the terrain,” he muttered, and stretched out one trembling finger. He began in what he figured was a relatively innocent area of the body, tracing a small line down the middle of Sylvain’s torso. Feeling him shiver under his touch did nothing to calm his beating heart. He thought back to where Sylvain had gotten reactions from him, blushing at the thought, and began to explore. Trying with both his fingertips and the palm of his hand, Dimitri roughly smoothed over Sylvain’s body, and Sylvain wanted to correct him into more delicate movements, but the pressure of his hand over the dip of his hips only allowed him to moan. It was so much rougher than he was used to with the ladies, if they even paid any attention to his body at all.

But goddess did it feel good.

Dimitri eventually slowed his pace. “I think I’ve found a few good areas to exploit,” he muttered, “so what do I do now?’”

Sylvain caught his breath and pushed himself upright. _This will be challenging_. “Kisses.”

“…”

“I can see why you’re hesitant, but if you want your lady to swoon beneath you, the kiss is what you use to lower her defences and open herself up to you. Use those areas of weakness to speed up the process.”

Dimitri nodded. “Sound logic.”

There was a lengthy pause. “Um, would you like me to demonstrate?” Sylvain asked.

Another pause, but Dimitri nodded. Sylvain, feeling hornier than he had in years, could hardly hold himself back as he launched a barrage of kisses again the prince’s skin. He immediately sunk himself into Dimitri’s neck, trying not to cum from the sound of the moan he elicited. Without even realising, Dimitri’s hands returned to Sylvain’s skin, and as Sylvain pressed kiss after kiss into his flesh, he found himself longing to do the same. _Is this… is this even a lesson anymore… it’s so… good…_ Throwing all decency to the wind, he pushed Sylvain down onto the bed, relishing the surprised look it gifted him, and pressed his lips gently onto Sylvain’s. His hips pushed downwards onto Sylvain’s erection, causing him to moan loudly into the prince’s mouth. Desperate for release, their hips moved against each other, their swelling cocks pushing through fabric against each other’s thighs, their lips locked in passion all the while.

Only when they broke the kiss and saw each other’s flushed faces did they stop.

For a moment, both men were silent, bewildered by what they were doing.

“Dimitri, I…” Sylvain spoke, “I… this might have gotten out of hand.”

“Are you enjoying this?”

Sylvain paused for a moment. His face turned scarlet. “I… I am.”

“Oh thank Sothis.” His lips crashed down onto Sylvain’s, stealing any doubt from his tongue. “Please, Sylvain, more. Teach me.”

Sylvain’s heart backflipped into his throat. “Oh goddess, I thought you’d hate me for this.”

“Not if it feels this good, I won’t. Please, lets finish today’s lesson before my arousal kills me.”

“As you wish.” Sylvain pushed upwards, catching Dimitri by surprise, and tore his trousers and underwear aside.

“By Sothis, that was fast.” Dimitri gaped, watching Sylvain remove his underwear.

Sylvain shrugged. “When you’ve got me this worked up, I’m surprised I wasn’t faster.” He moved to pull the stockings from his legs, but Dimitri stopped his hands.

“Those can stay,” he breathed, “if you like.”

Sylvain grinned. “Your secret’s safe with me.” Wrapping his silken legs around Dimitri’s waist, he pulled himself into the prince’s lap. “I’m happy to teach you more means of… release… anytime you want, but I take it you’re just desperate to cum, yes?”

“Oh fuck, Sylvain, please.”

Sylvain throbbed as Dimitri cursed. “Oh goddess, that’s hot. Beg me to and I’ll take care of everything.”

A stream of profanities left Dimitri’s lips. “Fuck, please! Oh fuck, Sylvain, I can’t…”

Sylvain moaned at the sound and wrapped his hand around Dimitri’s cock. Dimitri followed suite and gently took Sylvain into his hand as well. “Do I… just like normal?”

Sylvain couldn’t even respond as Dimitri began to pump his hand along the shaft. All he could do was moan. It should have been the same as anyone else doing it, the ladies who’d tried before, but even his own hand had never felt so perfect, as though Dimitri’s hand was shaped by Sothis herself to pleasure him. The pair fell into a sensuous rhythm, moving together, breathing hard and shallow.

“Sylvain,” Dimitri panted, “I never… not like this… but… fuck this is amazing.”

“Oh goddess Dimitri, I… when you… called me…”

“Yes?”

“When you… oh goddess, say it…”

Dimitri yelped as Sylvain pumped faster, and he felt himself nearing the edge. “My… beloved…” he cried.

“Oh fuck, Dimitri!” Sylvain felt the whole world collapse in on itself as his orgasm built. Every stroke of Dimitri’s hand was a blessing, sending stars streaming behind his vision. He forced his eyes open to look at Dimitri’s face, flushed and red with desire. Desire for _him_. Dimitri met his gaze for a moment, and then their bodies shuddered, Sylvain’s first, Dimitri’s second, their hands and bodies were painted with each other’s cum.

Leaning forward, as though his whole skeleton had fallen out from within him, Dimitri rested his head against Sylvain’s shoulder. “How… I… remind me why this started.”

Sylvain leaned into his embrace. “Remind me to thank Claude sometime.”

*

Claude whistled merrily as he swept the stables for the fourth time that month, nursing a handprint on his face roughly the size of Dimitri’s palm. _Worth it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sothis forgive me. This was too much fun to write.


	5. Lessons in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Ingrid is forced to confront her grief over Glenn's death, Mercedes does all she can to ease the pain. Ingrid x Mercedes, mild slow burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves, folks, this one gets angsty.

Mercedes lifts the tea tray from the table, laden with hot tea, a pair of teacups, and a small pile of freshly baked sweets. Humming to herself, she makes her way from the dining hall towards Ingrid’s room for their weekly tea and chat. It has become an important part of their week at the monastery, the pair always managing to find time for each other’s company between classes. A fellow student waves as she steps lightly up the stairs. Mercedes smiles back and continues on her way, not wanting to let the tea get cold.

She reaches Ingrid’s room, and balancing the tray on her hip, she knocks on the door. It swings open as her knuckles meet wood, revealing Ingrid clutching her knees in the middle of the room, sobs racking her body.

Mercedes all but throws the tray onto a nearby table and flings herself toward Ingrid in a comforting embrace. “Oh goddess, Ingrid, hold on. Breathe with me, alright?” She takes a huge breath in, feeling Ingrid’s lungs expanding under her embrace, and breathes out, Ingrid shaking as she follows. “In…” she commands, “…out…”

It takes a few moments, but soon Ingrid stops shivering. Mercedes takes a handkerchief from her pocket. Dabbing at Ingrid’s tears, she lets go. “Tell me everything.”

Ingrid hands Mercedes the letter with a trembling hand. "It's another... proposal my parents have arranged for me."

Mercedes reads the letter quickly, trying to find the incriminating text that has hurt her friend, but it seems no different from the ones they have shared together before. "My dear Ingrid, I'm so sorry. I don't recognise his name though."

"And you know what?" Ingrid replies. "That's exactly what I realised today. That the name doesn't matter. They'll never matter. They're not..." She pauses, breathless with agony. "They'll never replace Glenn."

Mercedes says nothing. All she can do is hold her friend as the tears shudder out of her body once more. 

They stay that way for an eternity, until the stabbing pain in Ingrid's heart returns to a dull ache. Mercedes hands her the handkerchief once more so Ingrid can blow her nose. The smell of lavender from the fabric is more calming than Ingrid remembers.

"Ingrid, if there is anything at all I can help with, just say and I will do everything in my power. I would bake ten thousand sweets if it made you happy."

"Thank you, Mercedes, but unless you can teach my heart to love again, I'm afraid there is nothing to be done."

"Oh, but I do love you!" 

Ingrid stifles a laugh at Mercedes' beaming smile. "And I you, but marriage and family escapes me. I fear I have missed the only chance I had in this life and happiness... isn't for me."

Mercedes' smile falls, and out of nowhere, she dons an expression Ingrid has never seen her wear. She clasps Ingrid's hands in hers and begins to speak. "Happiness is not a finite emotion, Ingrid. It is boundless, large enough that the heavens cannot contain it all and it spills from the stars into our fleeting lives. This happiness you claim you do not deserve is already yours. It is yours when you see the sun appear at dawn and when the moon takes its place. It is yours in every choice you make, in every smile that greets you, and in every cup of tea we have ever shared and will. If you cannot see happiness in the hand of a betrothed, then find it in me, and time will begin to heal you." 

Ingrid is speechless. Her best friend sits in front of her, with eyes and lips that suddenly speak the truths of Fodlan for her, with a face of gentle determination. Never before has she been so moved. 

After a long silence, she squeezes Mercedes's hands. "Thank you. Perhaps... with your patience... maybe I can feel love again."

Mercedes closes her eyes and leans in, pressing her forehead against Ingrid's. "Anything you wish, especially if what you wish for is more tea or sweets."

"I fear you may be right," Ingrid smiles.

*

The weeks pass as time continues its relentless pace, and with each new week, Mercedes begins to disassemble the walls around Ingrid's heart. A held hand, a hug, a kiss on the cheek. Slowly, they experiment with Ingrid's emotions, writing positive memories over painful ones. The plan was not to erase Glenn, but to add more experiences to draw upon- memories that hold more happiness than regret. 

It is a peaceful afternoon of chamomile tea and sugar biscuits when Mercedes asks Ingrid if she can kiss her. 

"Of course," Ingrid replies. "You don't need to ask to kiss me on the cheek again. I'm comfortable with that now."

Mercedes shakes her head. "Not like before," she says. "On the lips."

Ingrid blushes. It's such an intimate act, probably their most yet. She takes a sip of tea to consider the proposition. She supposes the benefits outweigh the potential negatives, and she sets her teacup to one side. "I accept."

Mercedes smiles and sets her own cup down too. She stands from her chair, moves over to the bed to sit, and invites Ingrid to sit beside her. She can hardly contain her happiness at the contented blush that covers Ingrid's face. 

"Alright then," Mercedes instructs, "please turn to face me." 

Ingrid obeys, slightly nervous now. "Should I keep my eyes open, or should I close them?"

"I'll leave that up to you. However is most comfortable."

Ingrid thinks for a moment and closes her eyes. Mercedes feels a flutter in her breast at the sight of Ingrid sitting in front of her, lips slightly parted in breath, eyes shut, cheeks flushed. She cups a hand on Ingrid's jaw, and slowly leans in, savouring the soft sensation of shared breath on their lips, before lightly closing the distance.

Ingrid doesn't dare to move as Mercedes' lips meet hers. It's so delicate that she wonders if it's actually real, but the slight tingle that the contact sends to her chest is too persistent to be fake. It might have taken an eternity, but Mercedes draws away, and Ingrid keens at the loss. 

"How was-"

"Again," Ingrid demands quietly, eyes still closed. "Please, again."

Mercedes obliges. This time, she finds Ingrid meeting her halfway, with a little more urgency. The tingle she felt before is stronger too. Those soft lips are addictive and heavenly, and she can taste sugar and tea on Ingrid's breath this time. 

"Again."

"Again."

"Please, again."

Every time Mercedes pulls away, Ingrid feels her heart aching with loss, and for the first time in years, it doesn't feel like pain. Mercedes obediently kisses her at every command. 

"May I add something new to this one?" Mercedes asks after more than two dozen.

"Anything," Ingrid replies, red and breathless. 

Mercedes presses in firmly and insistent. Ingrid bends to the motion, enraptured by the feeling that bubbles in her chest, and as Mercedes opens her mouth against her lips and licks her tongue along them, she shudders with delight. Pressing back stronger, she lets Mercedes trace backwards and forwards along them, each motion more delightful than before. 

One particular lick forces her mouth open in a gasp. Mercedes wastes no time in darting her tongue inside Ingrid's mouth and exploring further. Each moan only encourages her more, moving faster and deeper. Their tongues gently dance together, and before long, Ingrid realises that's she's pressed her chest to Mercedes', connecting the pair from breath to breast. It only makes her more desperate for Mercedes' kisses. 

There is no air left in her when Mercedes finally pulls back. Their arms are looped around each other, fingers gripping the other's shirt, chests heaving together. For a silent moment, they stay that way, but neither looking the other in the eye. 

"That was wonderful," Ingrid finally says, her chest hurting as Mercedes releases her from their embrace. 

"It was so lovely," Mercedes agrees. "Not too much at once though?"

Ingrid shakes her head. "Just perfect," she smiles. 

*

The week cannot pass quick enough for Ingrid. Every waking moment- no, even in dreaming, her thoughts are filled with Mercedes. She had loved Glenn with all her heart, but this desire that she felt now? Nothing came close. 

And so when Mercedes arrives with their next tray of tea, she has barely set it down when Ingrid presses her back into the wall and lavishes her with kiss after kiss. 

Mercedes legs buckle at the suddenness of it all, but she too has been impatient to feel Ingrid's body against hers again. She quickly picks up where they had left off, sliding her tongue into Ingrid's mouth and drawing delicious moans from within. Ingrid's hand slides downwards along Mercedes back, lower and lower. Past the curve of her spine and resting on the curve of her ass, she silently begs for more, cupping the cheek and kissing deeper. 

Mercedes reluctantly breaks away. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Ingrid pants, "teach me more."

Mercedes leaves a quick but fervent kiss on her lover's lips and leads her to the bed. "May I pleasure you, Ingrid? We can stop at any time you need to."

Ingrid nods and reaches to remove her shirt. 

Mercedes stops her, shaking her head. "Allow me." She gently pushes Ingrid onto her back and begins to unfasten Ingrid's shirt. Slowly, the fabric falls from her breasts and stomach, the cool air tickling her flesh. Ingrid feels goosebumps forming beneath the thin layer of cotton on her chest, and as Mercedes pushes it up to expose her breasts, her heart races. She pauses at this moment to check if Ingrid is still alright. Ingrid nods.

Mercedes begins by drawing a finger in lazy, feather-light circles on her breasts. It feels like lightning crackling on her skin and she gasps in pleasure. Slowly, the finger winds in tighter arcs, smaller and smaller, until it reaches Ingrid's nipple, and as her finger grazes over the delicate nub, Ingrid moans, her back arching. A wetness pools between her legs as Mercedes flicks her finger back and forth. When she can feel Ingrid squirming more violently at her touch, she draws back her hand. "More?"

"Goddess, yes."

"Then show me how you please yourself, and I'll help you."

Ingrid's breath catches in her throat. "I... with you..." She tries again. "I had a dream. About you. The other night."

Mercedes cocks her head to one side. "Go on?"

Ingrid's blush is furious. "It was a really, really nice dream, and when I woke... I couldn't help myself... I..."

"Show me, if you'd like."

Ingrid shifts slightly, lifting her hips, and raising her skirt entirely. Mercedes slowly helps, pulling her tights and panties down over each foot, exposing Ingrid entirely. 

"Remember, if you want to stop at any moment, just ask."

"No, I want to show you." Ingrid takes Mercedes' hand and guides it to her folds. "It was like... this..."

Ingrid pushes Mercedes fingers gently against her wet entrance, already slick with want. Then, moving slowly, she teases, pressing one of Mercedes' digits just barely inside and then out again. She breathes heavily as they do this again and again, until Mercedes leans down and places a gentle kiss over Ingrid's nipple. Ingrid moans, pressing both of their fingers deeper inside. Her hips begin moving of their own accord as Mercedes licks and their fingers slide in and out in tandem. The obscene wet sounds that fill the room only fuel Ingrid's desire. 

Mercedes feels the walls inside of Ingrid as her finger is guided deeper, and as she expects, Ingrid's curls slightly, forcing hers to follow. She times a well-placed lick across her nipple as her fingers stroke inside, and Ingrid can hardly contain her cries, burning from inside out. They pick up speed, her body beginning to shake. Every curl of Mercedes' finger, every kiss upon her breast, it begins to swell into a ball of light behind her eyes. She's wetter than she's ever known she could be, and her muscles tense in time with each motion. She begins to feel her orgasm building and she squeezes her eyes shut, but Mercedes speaks.

"Watch, Ingrid. Watch yourself cum."

With those words, she furiously mouths her nipple and rubs her finger so fast that Ingrid's hips buck towards the ceiling. Forced to stare, she watches both her hand and Mercedes' working inside of her and Mercedes' lips on her breasts as though she was the most delicious thing to ever grace her mouth. It sends her mind spinning. "Mer-Mercedes," she moans, and it suddenly feels like an electric shock in her core, shattering her into a thousand pieces. Her body convulses violently, her mind is numbed, and Mercedes curls their fingers one more time, Ingrid squirting into their hands in a wave of release. Mercedes waits to release her mouth from Ingrid's nipple and her hand from within her soaked folds, and Ingrid squirts again at the loss. 

Limp, Ingrid lies unmoving beside Mercedes, breath heaving in and out of her chest and her eyes glazed. She tries to speak, but her lips are dry, and they crack under the movement. Mercedes leans down and kisses Ingrid slowly, and Ingrid, for the first time in years, feels love blooming in her heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I hope 2020 brings you all the pining and smut that you need. R xx


	6. R&R (rest and restraint)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annette will not rest unless she is physically tied to the bed. Byleth obliges.

Annette gently awoke to Byleth’s movements, but, still groggy from the late night of studying she’d done, she drifted immediately back to sleep. It wasn’t her fault that the battle formations she was looking at for their upcoming battle against the empire were so unusual that she’d lost track of time. Again. Nevertheless, she had dismissed any guilt. What harm would another late night do after all?

Somewhere between dreaming and waking, she occasionally heard rustling and felt the warmth of Byleth’s fingers against her skin. How sweet his warm touch felt against her flesh. She smiled and hummed happily as her sleep began to fade. Her eyes fluttered open and Byelth smiled back at her, his deep eyes looking at her as though she was Sothis herself.

“Good morning,” he said.

Half-yawn, half-greeting spilled from her mouth in a jumble. Annette raised one hand to cover her mou-

She couldn’t move.

“Huh?” She tried again, her limbs still heavy with sleep, but to no avail. She lay there in confusion for a while, Byleth smirking back at her.

“Had you forgotten your promise?” He chuckled.

Annette was very awake now. Her mind raced, the memory she needed to remember at the edge of her mind. It bled into focus. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes. You promised me no more late nights, or I’d have to tie you down for you to get any rest.”

Annette craned her head upwards to find her hands tied together with soft fabric and tethered to the frame of the bed. She hastily tried to scoot upright, but her legs wouldn’t move either, and looking down, similar strips of fabric fastened her legs to the bedposts. “I didn’t think you were serious!” she protested, pouting slightly. “I have work to do this morning!”

“Not anymore,” Byleth replied, leaning in close. “You gave up those tasks when you chose to crawl into bed after midnight…” He tilted his head down to her ear and in a low whisper that stopped any of her protests, he said, “…and so you must be punished.”

Annette was now both upset _and_ horny. Her skin prickled under Byleth’s breath and her chest tightened. “W-what are you going to do?”

Byleth faintly and slowly traced his tongue along the length of her neck. “Many things,” he eventually replied.

A shudder ran along Annette’s spine in an intoxicating wave and she couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped her lips.

“Uh uh uh…” Byleth chided. “Good girls that go to bed on time are quiet.”

Annette licked her lips. He took a handkerchief from the bedside and pressed it into her mouth as a gag. She always loved this part. The restraints were an exciting development for today, but it was comforting to know she could moan to her heart’s content without fear of being heard.

And based on how Byleth was acting, she knew this morning would get loud.

“Oh, one more thing.” Byleth gave her a peck on the cheek and then lifted her head from the pillow, wrapping a scarf over her eyes. Annette blushed as her vision went black, her fingers tingling with excitement.

“Without further ado,” Byleth declared, “it’s time for your punishment to begin.”

Annette took a deep breath and waited for his touch along her skin but jolted in shock as he began to tickle her mercilessly. _This wasn’t part of the deal!_ her thoughts screamed, as Byleth’s fingers ceaselessly jabbed with speed and precision. It felt like fire and ice and lightning all at once. Her breath was stuck in her throat and tears wet her blindfold. Convulsing and writing, Annette’s screams and laughter choked in her gagged mouth as she pulled helplessly against her restraints. All she could do was weather the attack.

After what felt like an aeon, it was over. Annette gasped for air and Byleth withdrew his hands. Her body ached and her wrists were sore from pulling against her bonds. She couldn’t see Byleth’s face, but she was certain that he had that stupid, proud smile on his face that he’d get after winning a battle. What she’d give to turn the tables occasionally…

Annette was shaken back to reality at his breath on her ear. “You did well.” He nibbled at her earlobe. “Time for a reward…”

Her bottom lip trembled in anticipation and she moaned, her hips wriggling in want. Byleth’s hand roamed upwards along her inner thigh and her skin tingled beneath his fingers. She sucked in a deep breath through her gag as she felt warm liquid begin to seep through her panties, but just as Byleth reached the top of her inner thigh, his hand diverted along the line of her cotton underwear towards her hip. He smiled, watching her eyebrows furrow in frustration.

“Disappointed? Am I going too slow?” He asked, drawing small circles on her hip.

Annette furiously nodded, pulling against her restraints and pushing her hip into his fingers.

“Well then.” He took his hands away.

Annette jolted at the loss of contact. Her skin ached for his hands, ached for some kind of release. She tried desperately to hear any clue to what Byleth was up to, but all she heard was almost imperceptible rustling.

Until she heard the metallic click of scissors.

Utterly confused, her head swivelled in the direction of the sound.

Byleth sensed her panic and spoke. “Don’t worry, they’re not for you, but I am really glad your sewing skills are excellent. Hold still.”

Annette cocked her head. Then, the scissors began to carve a line along the seam of her nightgown. Her flesh prickled at the cold air as the fabric split from her thighs to her stomach to her ribcage. Byleth flung the cloth aside, before making a quick incision along the side of her panties. The cold metal brushed against her hip and Annette shivered, but she found the whole experience undeniably hot. A moan slipped through her gag as she heard Byleth throw the scissors away, felt him pull the cut fabric from her sex, and slipped a finger inside of her. Her legs tugged at the restraints as his finger stroked fast and deep, her hips bucking into his hand. A second joined the first and her back arched off the mattress. Byleth’s fingers inside of her sent a maddening blush across Annette’s skin and her muffled cries mingled with the wet and obscene sounds that now filled the room.

Byleth’s chest tightened at the sight in front of him; Annette, his lover, spread open and moaning at his touch. Her reddened face beneath the blindfold, the way her limbs spasmed against the cloths that tied her down, her wet, dripping lips sucking his fingers deeper… pleasure rolled up his spine and he couldn’t hold back any longer. Annette moaned as he withdrew his finger, sending a pang of arousal straight to his cock, and he hastily threw his pants aside. He lifted Annette’s hips from the bed and shuffled his knees beneath her, leaning his body over her and brushing a strand of her hair behind one ear.

“Are you ready for your final lesson?” He breathed into her ear.

Annette’s head rolled backwards, her hips gyrated in his lap, and she nodded fervently.

Letting out half-breath, half-moan, Byleth pushed the tip of his dripping erection against her entrance and with as much restraint as he could muster, he slowly pressed himself inside. Annette’s body shuddered around him in a mesmerising movement. Finally, he was fully sheathed and already, he could feel his impending release. He waited for Annette to take a deep breath, and then he began rolling his hips and pressing into the deepest part of her.

It felt like her body was on fire. The heat that burnt through her core and out through her fingertips was almost enough to set fire to her restraints. Over and over, Byleth sent waves of ecstasy through her mind and soul, and her mind shorted out. All she could feel was pleasure and heat. His pace quickened. She felt herself losing all control. Fire seared through her core. A high-pitched whine caught in her throat. Byleth swore. His hips began moving on their own, thrusting harder and faster. Annette’s body tensed and she tightened around his cock in release. Byleth threw his head back, he gripped her hips, and let his orgasm come in shuddering bursts of indescribable pleasure.

The remained that way for a while, boneless and breathing heavily. Once Byleth had regained his breath, he slowly slid out of Annette, earning a whine, and began to clean up. He folded the remains of Annette’s nightdress and underwear, placing it on the desk next to her sewing kit, and unfastened the restraints around her ankles. As his hand removed the gag and blindfold from her eyes, he began to ask her how she felt, but she was already in a deep, satisfied sleep. A smile crept onto his lips. All ties and gags away, he tucked her into the bed linens, and began to dress for a long day’s work. Finally, Annette might get some rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! No content for the next fortnight, but I'll be back for more chapters very soon. Also, check out my tumblr at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/theresolutiontotakeflight. R xx


	7. Rumours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumours are a tricky business, but you know what's trickier? Trying not to fall in love with the man you're fake-dating to spite those rumours. Dedue x Sylvain. Enjoy!

“Sylvain, may I speak with you?”

Sylvain turned in his seat to address the gruff voice behind him. “Hey, Dedue! Sure, how can I help?”

Dedue glanced around the crowded classroom, keenly aware of the number of people surrounding them.

“Ah, gotcha. Let’s find somewhere quieter.”

A secluded bench in the gardens seemed ideal. Sylvain offered Dedue a spot, and when he shook his head to decline, Sylvain stretched his arms behind his head and reclined casually. “So, lady troubles?”

Dedue frowned. “Not exactly. Do you remember the last time we spoke?”

Sylvain cast his mind back, recalling their dining hall conversation from a few months prior. “When we talked about all those rumours and the way people treat us?”

“Yes, I…” Dedue looked at the ground. “There are new ones. More concerning.”

“About you?”

Dedue shook his head. “About _you_.”

Sylvain laughed. “This’ll be good. What you got?”

“That you prefer the company of men to women.”

Sylvain’s jaw swung open. “Huh. That’s new.”

“As you seem to know, in Duscur, this is not unheard of, but here in Fodlan, I hear it is discouraged. I’ve heard the unsavoury stories of those who have been shunned from towns for openly expressing their preference.”

“Hm. I suppose it could cause some problems.” Sylvain pondered for a while.

“What will you do?”

“Well, let me ask you this. In Duscur, did you ever… well, as you put it, enjoy the company of a man?”

Dedue flushed. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“It’s fine if you’d rather not say.”

“…it’s alright. I do confess that gender has never dissuaded my heart.”

Sylvain smiled. “Sounds pretty reasonable to me. You see, I have a small problem. As you already know, I’m sick and tired of people’s expectations.” He pulled a letter from his shirt pocket and handed it to Dedue, who read it swiftly.

“From your father?”

“Yeah, my father.” Sylvain spat the words from his mouth like spoiled wine. “My father who only cares about upholding his own reputation, and who sends me a weekly letter reminding me of my crest-bearing duties.”

Dedue nodded sympathetically. “I understand how these rumours would be a problem.”

Sylvain stared back at Dedue, eyes twinkling. “A problem for _him_.”

This was not a good omen. Dedue cautiously raised one eyebrow as Sylvain rose from the bench.

“Would you like to create some problems with me, Dedue?” Sylvain asked, leaning forward, hands in his back pockets.

“I-I’m not sure I follow.”

“It would cause all sorts of problems if my father found out I was dating a man, wouldn’t it? Here at the monastery, they’re a pretty accepting bunch, but Faerghus? Not quite so progressive.

Sylvain was now much too close for Dedue’s comfort, eyeing him like a juicy steak. He cleared his throat. “What are you suggesting?”

Sylvain knelt to the ground, taking his hand. “Dedue, will you be mine for a month?”

Dedue blinked. “Pardon?”

Sylvain smiled. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could combine our causes? I get to annoy my father, and you get to support the progressive future of Fodlan with a high-ranking Faerghus noble. If we pull this off, maybe people will actually be more accepting of the both of us and mind their own business.”

Somehow, it was actually a good point. Dedue made a mental note not to dismiss Sylvain’s intelligence so quickly in the future, even if this did seem to be a fluke. Yet, he wasn’t convinced by the method. “Surely we could not convincingly pretend to be lovers?”

“You underestimate my skills.” Sylvain placed a delicate kiss on Dedue’s hand, holding eye contact as his lips grazed his skin. Dedue felt his knees buckle.

“For the future of Fodlan,” Dedue declared softly.

*

Dedue was used to stares and whispers, or so he thought. People never quite meeting his gaze, abrupt endings to conversations as he entered rooms; the dark tones of his skin and icy white of his hair had always been the talk of the monastery. While it was nice for _that_ not to be the issue any more, somehow the stares felt more painful alongside the heat of Sylvain’s hand in his. Sylvain’s long, slender fingers, intertwined with his own, didn’t feel uncomfortable at all, but his skin burned and his heart beat as though he was fighting in battle with every step they took through the dining hall. Joining the queue for food, other students glanced over their shoulders and shuffled away from the pair, Sylvain pressing his lithe body closer to Dedue as they waited. Dedue decided now was not the right time to explain to Sylvain that he’d never actually been with a man before.

“What would you like to eat for dinner today, my sweetheart?” Sylvain’s question jerked him back to reality and his face burned furiously.

“…maybe the soup.”

“Mmm, it does smell delicious,” Sylvain said, before lowering his voice to a very audible whisper. “But I bet it won’t be as delicious as you are.”

Dedue’s chest tightened and he was suddenly assaulted by a cocktail of embarrassment and confusion. He knew Sylvain was playing the room, but by the gods, those words shouldn’t have affected his heart like that.

He mulled the feeling over as he took his soup to a nearby table, trying to avoid his fellow students. Unfortunately, Ingrid, Felix, and Dimitri had inevitably spotted the pair and shifted seats to join them, mostly by Ingrid’s insistence.

“Sylvain!” Ingrid barked before she’d even sat. Her dinner spilled onto the table as she slammed her plate down. “Have you no dignity?! What by Sothis are you trying to pull?”

“What do you mean?” Sylvain shrugged, sipping his soup.

Dimitri cocked an eyebrow.

Ingrid just glared at him. Her gaze softened as she turned to Dedue. “You can tell me what he’s dragged you into. Honestly, the number of holes I’ve dug this idiot out of…”

“There is no ruse,” Dedue lied, gripping his trousers. “Sylvain and I…” He trailed off.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you get embarrassed!” Sylvain nudged Dedue with his shoulder.

Felix grunted. “Please, I want to keep my dinner.”

“Prove it then,” Ingrid said, pointedly ignoring Felix. “Tell us how it happened, Sylvain.”

Dimitri nodded. “I’d be interested to hear the tale.”

Felix groaned.

“I’ll do you one better,” Sylvain replied, turning to Dedue. _Just like I’d said_.

Dedue took a deep breath. They’d discussed how they’d need to convince the others, arriving at a single, inevitable conclusion. It didn’t make it any easier though.

As Dedue turned to face him, Sylvain swallowed. _Like you normally do…_ Placing a hand on his face, he slowly bridged the gap between their lips, expecting to feel nothing at all.

How wrong he was.

Dedue’s lips were soft, so incredibly soft against his own, but warmer and fuller than any he’d kissed before. A tingle of breath grazed his top lip, and entranced, he lifted his lips away, a shock of lust still dancing on his skin. Dedue’s eyes fluttered open. Sylvain’s heart pounded. _It never… Should it always feel like that?_

It took Sylvain several moments to realised someone had wolf whistled across the hall at them. Turning forward, he saw Ingrid, Dimitri, and Felix all staring.

Ingrid cleared her throat, absolutely scarlet. “That was slightly unnecessary.”

“Get a room. Actually, don’t. Ugh. My stomach.” Felix stood and strode away, not making eye contact.

Dimitri, however, was enraptured. “My word! I’m so happy for you both.”

Dedue looked down, blushing into his dinner. _And I feel happy too…?_

*

It was more than Sylvain could bear. Every moment of his waking was plagued with his desire, and yet he had dug this grave himself. He and Dedue were three weeks into their “relationship”, but since that kiss in the first week?

Sylvain groaned. Even just thinking about those soft lips against his own was enough to drive him insane, but he couldn’t dare ask Dedue for more than he’d already given. What kind of a man would that make him; forcing himself on a friend for his own selfish needs and then saying it wasn’t enough? Dedue probably didn’t even feel that way in return.

His mind quickly flashed to every moment they’d held hands and flirted over the last fortnight, and his stomach twisted into tiny knots. A rush of blood headed south. Sylvain slapped his face just enough to force his attention elsewhere. _I can’t keep doing this; I can’t fake it any more. We have to break up._

A small hollowness crept into his chest as he left his room and headed for Dedue’s. The sun had journeyed below the horizon some time ago, the moon rising slowly in its place to accompany the stars. Sylvain rubbed his arms in the cold night air, regretting his lack of coat, but this wouldn’t take long anyway. Dedue never was one for long conversation.

Not a single monk had passed him by the time he reached Dedue’s door. Sylvain took a deep breath, raising his hand to knock.

But he couldn’t.

_What on earth do I say?_ His mind raced. _I can’t do this badly, he’ll never forgive me. Or worse, what if I give myself away? I have to—_

A low, almost inaudible moan from within the room interrupted his panicking. Sylvain lowered his hand in confusion. _Is that Dedue?_

Another sound, this time more guttural and slightly pained. Sylvain’s heart raced. _Has he injured himself in there? I’d better-_

“Sylvain…”

Sylvain’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. _How does he know I’m here? Does he need me?_ He took a deep breath in through gritted teeth, steeled himself, and pushed the door open, ready to apply healing spells as needed.

He wasn’t ready to see Dedue lying on his bed with a hand wrapped around his cock, illuminated in the soft glow of candlelight.

A few things hit Sylvain quite quickly after that. The first thought was of how enormous Dedue was. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but by the _gods_ was it far thicker than his own, and a pang of arousal and curiosity flooded his senses. The next was a quick rewind of the events of the last minute, followed by a mental kicking for being so oblivious to actual nature of Dedue’s moaning. The third and final thought was to quickly shut the door so no-one else could see, effectively trapping himself inside, half-erect and too embarrassed to turn around.

His mind was still processing everything when Dedue spoke. “Did you… did you hear anything?”

Sylvain nodded. He could hear rustling as Dedue clothed himself and the thought of it stained his cheeks.

Dedue let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Sylvain. I lost control of myself, and I did not mean to involve you in these feelings. It would have complicated the plan if I’d confessed so I could not. Can you forgive me?”

“Dedue, I…” Sylvain swallowed thickly. “I came to see you to break the plan off.”

“…I see.”

“Wait, I’m not sure you do.” Sylvain placed a hand on the door to steady himself. “It was such a great idea until that kiss, you know? I thought I could be suave and charming like I always used to be, but you? There was something in that kiss that I… I can’t fake it any more, just being around you, it… Ugh, I can’t say it right!”

He turned sharply to finally face Dedue, to somehow find the right words, but he was already there, embracing him. His large frame wrapped around him in the most comforting hug Sylvain had ever experienced. It was like a heavy blanket cocooning his whole being, gently coaxing every nerve from his body, and pressed to Dedue’s chest, all Sylvain could hear was that steady heartbeat from within.

“Do you need more, Sylvain?”

Those words were so softly whispered, that had he not been pressed against his body, Sylvain wondered if he would have heard them at all. “Goddess yes, I’ve needed you all week. I just didn’t want to assume-”

Sylvain was cut off as Dedue kissed him, deep and hungry. His back was pinned to the wall, Dedue’s leg between his own, and their bodies pressed flush. Sylvain was almost sure he’d died and gone to heaven, had the feeling not been so sinful. Moan after moan fell from his lips and onto Dedue’s tongue, and his steadily growing erection pushed against the cloth of his trousers and along Dedue’s thigh. In mere moments, he was whimpering for more.

“Please… Dedue… ahh!” His pleas were lost as Dedue ground against his hip, that enormous bulge suddenly Sylvain’s only thought.

“Does it make you nervous?” Dedue’s breath tickled Sylvain’s ear, sending shivers along his skin.

“No, I just… _really_ … want to try…”

“As you desire.”

Before Sylvain could react, Dedue had scooped him into his arms and was carrying him towards the bed. Sylvian definitely wasn’t used to this sort of treatment, but every inch of his body was enjoying it, and his heart quivered as Dedue lay him down.

“Please let me know if this is too much at any point, and I will stop,” Dedue said.

Sylvain nodded. “What did you have in mind?”

Dedue smiled. “Whatever feels comfortable. I’m happy to be yours for the night.”

“Just tonight?” Sylvain whispered, leaning his face in close.

“Mm… perhaps you can convince me for more…”

“No need to tell me twice.” Sylvain began unfastening Dedue’s trousers, desperate to begin his argument, ditching his own trousers and undergarments in the process. Soon, Sylvain knelt on the floor between Dedue’s legs, marvelling at the size of his cock and his head reeling with lust.

“Let me know what works and what doesn’t, ok?” Sylvain said, looking up into Dedue’s flushed face.

Dedue stared back, Sylvain’s eager smile more than he could handle. It was positively remarkable how attractive he looked; his thin, white shirt barely obscuring his weeping cock, and his soft lips so close his own erection, just how he’d imagined in his dreams. “Gods, Sylvain, how did I wait this long?”

Sylvain didn’t reply, simply taking Dedue’s thick cock in his hand and experimentally beginning to stroke. It didn’t take long before he’d found a rhythm. Dedue’s breaths shuddered through his body, as Sylvain’s hand forced every breath he took from his lungs with a violent rasp.

“Is it how you imagined it?” Sylvain eventually asked.

“It feels better by far,” Dedue replied between breaths, “but I confess this was not the method,”

“Oh?”

“I worry it is too fast for you.”

“I’m honestly so horny right now that you could do anything to me, and I would beg for more.” Sylvain licked his lips. “Show me.”

Dedue’s eyes fluttered shut as a wave of arousal shot through his body. He cleared his throat. “I’ll need you on the bed then.”

As Sylvain sat, Dedue stood, fetching something from the nightstand. Sylvain raised an eyebrow but received no explanation, Instead, he was ordered onto his hands and knees near the head of the bed. A small, wet pop caught his attention, and he looked back to see Dedue applying some kind of oil to his fingers.

“Please let me know if you feel any pain or if you are uncomfortable, and I promise to stop.”

“I trust you,” Sylvain replied, getting the idea of what was about to happen rather quickly.

Sure enough, one of Dedue’s fingers, slick and cool, began to tease at his ass. He gasped at the sudden sensation but relaxed as Dedue’s other hand reached around to grip his cock. It was warm familiarity against cold surprise and his body began to crave it, especially when the first finger entered him.

“Oh _by the Goddess_ , Dedue…” The sharp stretch he felt burned him in a way he’d never experienced, so vulnerable and thrilling.

“Are you alright?” Dedue leaned his body closer, embracing Sylvain and stroking him slowly,

“M-more… ahh!”

As Dedue added another finger and another, Sylvain’s body burned. Dedue’s warm body pressed around his, his weeping cock, the strange tingling pleasure inside him… it wouldn’t be long, he was certain.

Dedue felt the same. Watching Sylvain unravel under his touch was almost more than he could bear. Had it only been half an hour since he lay here, dreaming of this and fearing he could never share these feelings with Sylvain? If Sylvain was ready, then _he_ was desperate.

Sylvain must have felt it too. “More, Dedue, please! All… all of you…” he begged, sweat beading down his forehead.

“I will.” Dedue slowly withdrew his fingers, relishing the shivers that racked Sylvain’s body as he did so. Taking the vial of oil once more, he slicked his cock with as much restraint as he could muster and leaned back over Sylvain again. “I’ll go slowly but let me know if it’s too much.”

“You’re huge, I admit,” Sylvain panted, “but honestly, it just makes me want more. Take me, Dedue.”

It took all Dedue’s self-control for him to last beyond those words. Pressing ever so slowly, he let himself fill Sylvain, stroking his weeping cock to distract from the stretch. Sylvain was so tight around him, squeezing at every nerve that could possibly feel pleasure, until his fingers buzzed with it. Finally, he was fully sheathed, and he moaned in relief.

Sylvain’s mouth was frozen open in ecstasy. His eyes had closed some time ago but little dots flitted behind his eyelids as Dedue’s cock pressed into every corner of his being. “Oh goddess, Dedue… oh please… it’s so good…”

“Any pain?”

“Only a little, but the pleasure…” Sylvain tentatively rocked his hips backwards and let out a high-pitched cry as the sensation shook through him.

Dedue moaned at the sound, let alone the tightening around his shaft, and his grip on reality began to slide out from beneath him. His hips canted upwards under his own primal desire. With every thrust, another delightful sound escaped Sylvain’s lips and every cry only spurred him on. He began stroking Sylvain faster, feeling Sylvain’s hips twitching beneath his own. Sylvain’s vision went dark and sparks coursed through his body and burst behind his eyes, blindingly white.

Suddenly, with one particularly deep thrust, his body exploded in a fire of ecstasy. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before, ripping through him from inside out. His lungs burst and he wailed, toes curling and muscles convulsing as Dedue thrust there again and again. His release hit him with more intensity than he’d ever felt, spilling into Dedue’s hand and across the bedding.

Dedue felt Sylvain’s orgasm only moments before his own. He was already so close when he’d found a particular angle that sent Sylvain over the edge in seconds, and the way his body reacted was breathtakingly beautiful, He hardly heard his own moans over that sweet sound that burst from Sylvain’s lips. As Sylvain’s body shuddered in pleasure, he squeezed Dedue’s cock so tightly, that a few impassioned thrusts was all it took for Dedue’s mind and body to collapse to the wave of ecstasy that surged through him, spilling himself in the deepest parts of Sylvain.

Their breathing was loud as they gasped for air, bodies stiff and minds lost to pleasure. Slowly, very slowly, the reality of their position began to settle. Dedue slowly drew himself out of Sylvain, cherishing every small whimper he made in the process, and grabbed a nearby cloth to clean them with. Silence cloaked them as they began to relax, and the candle slowly flickered out in the dim room. Dedue pulled the covers aside and lay down, inviting Sylvain to join him. Sylvain eagerly obliged.

As he snuggled into Dedue’s warm embrace, Sylvain whispered, “Together for real this time?”

Dedue chuckled. “For real.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my friend (who will remain anon unless they request otherwise) for helping me through a writer's block this chapter. Their advice was super instrumental in making this as good as it is, love ya! R xx


	8. Beautiful Agony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hurt/Comfort 101: How do you learn to love again when war threatens to steal everything you love? Felix x Ingrid

It hurt.

It hurt more than she could possibly say, like an axe had swung into her torso and smashed her ribcage into a thousand irreparable pieces. Perhaps she was already in pieces, a broken jigsaw scattered across a cold marble floor. Shattered, unfinished, _tired_.

A hand clutched her shoulder. Her knees pressed into something solid, and she realised she had fallen to the ground, gravel and stone piercing her flesh. Painless, she noted, as though her body was not her own. It might have been Sylvain’s voice trying to speak to her, but her body simply would not take heed.

All she could feel was the impossible tightness in her chest that squeezed the breath from her lungs.

All she could see was Glenn, frozen in front of her, his chest bleeding and his throat gushing under the suspended swing of cold, glinting steel.

She screwed her eyes shut and screamed. The pain howled through her body in that shrill cry that ripped out of her mouth in agony. Her head rang with the noise of a thousand church bells, and she squeezed her hands over her ears to dampen the sound.

Suddenly, she felt the air rush into her lungs like the pull of the ocean before the oncoming wave and everything sped up all at once.

Her eyes flew open. Sylvain’s arms were wrapped around her, in that same familiar way he had learned to do since they were teenagers. She’d had another delusion is what it meant. Her vision drifted into focus and she saw Felix in the arena with a wooden sword pointed at his throat held by his opponent, Catherine. They both stared at her with concern.

Ingrid remembered.

They were here to watch Felix challenge Catherine in combat. He’d demanded that she help him hone his skills in a real fight, and she and Sylvain had come to watch and support him, knowing he didn’t have a chance in hell of beating her. The training grounds slowly bled into Ingrid’s vision, the tall stone columns and monolithic arches lining the square arena. The sky existed, as did the ground beneath her feet. The air that filled her lungs was real. Ingrid was real. No-one was dying anymore.

Sylvain pulled her to her feet, still embracing her from behind. He’d learned how to hug Ingrid when she drifted like this from a younger age than he should have, but war and politics have a way of stripping innocence from the young. Ingrid’s heart grew heavier at the thought.

“Come now, let’s get you out of here,” he whispered. He released one arm to give a signal to Felix that he would sort this out. Ingrid couldn’t even look at him, fearful that looking back would transform him into Glenn once more, and she was far too shattered to deal with that again so soon. Sylvain moved to one side, arm around her for support, and together they took slow, careful steps from the training grounds towards Ingrid’s dorm.

Catherine watched in silence, processing what she’d witnessed. She’d simply used her sword to disarm Felix after he’d swung too wide, but the second his sword had hit the ground and her sword had pinned him to his knees, that unearthly wail had ricocheted from the sidelines. She looked down at Felix and lowered her sword. A darkness shadowed his face and despite his attempts to hide it, the wetness of his eyes threatened to spill over.

“What the hell just happened?” she muttered quietly.

“Nothing of concern,” Felix said, the usual venom from his voice absent. “You fought well. Thank you.” He stood, brushed off the dirt from his trousers, and turned to fetch his sword. His boots squeaked slightly on the stone floor as he left without another word.

Catherine stood for a while in shock, the empty arena offering her no answers.

*

“There we go, deep breaths.”

Ingrid took another lungful of air under Sylvain’s instruction. Her hands still shook as she gripped the fabric of her pants, but her head was clearer now that she was seated. Sylvain sat beside her on the edge of the bed, rubbing her back in large, slow circles, and she was glad for his company.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be, it’s fine. I know how hard this is.”

That he did. It had been 5 years since they’d watched Byleth slaughter that beast, the remnants of his brother Miklan, and they’d cried together in the secrecy of night in the weeks that followed. Of course he knew.

“I don’t know what came over me,” she whispered, as though not to disturb the darkness in her head. “It was just a training session, there wasn’t even any danger.”

“The mind is cruel sometimes,” Sylvain replied just as softly. “You’ve done well to be so strong.”

There was a knock at the door. Sylvain looked up. “Would you like me to see who it is?”

Ingrid nodded.

Sylvain gave her shoulder a little squeeze and stood from the bed. He unlocked the door, opening it a crack to see who the visitor was.

Felix.

Sylvain paused and they looked at each other in silence, weighing up whether he should come in or not. Felix’s eyes were damp, and his fists were balled up at his side, his demeanour wordlessly pleading to speak with Ingrid. Sylvain obliged.

“I’ll be just outside if you need me, okay?” He turned to Ingrid, asking her permission as Felix stepped inside.

Ingrid stared at Felix, took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”

Sylvain and Felix exchanged a wordless nod and Sylvain stepped outside, gently closing the door behind him.

Ingrid looked down at her hands as Felix sat down on the floor, legs crossed and facing away. A long moment of silence stretched between them.

“I’m sorry for disrupting your training,” Ingrid eventually spoke, her voice honest in words but not in emotion. It was as though all the feelings that had exploded in the arena had already been shoved in a box and locked away, Felix noted. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this, and it wouldn’t be the last. 

“It’s fine. You didn’t distract me,” he mumbled. He paused and decided to test the waters a bit. “Are you feeling a little better?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

Felix looked at Ingrid, catching her eye for a second. She hastily looked away. “You always were a bad liar.”

“Well what do you want me to say?” Ingrid snapped.

“The truth.”

“Oh, you want the truth?” She stared him down. “You want me to tell you that I saw Glenn in that arena, not you? That the sword at your throat was slitting his? You want me to tell you every nightmare that plagues me even when I’m awake? Would that satisfy you?” She caught herself at the end, breathing heavy and her head dizzy with rage. _Ugh, what is wrong with me today?_ Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths and pushed everything back into her head where those feelings belonged, beginning to count backwards from ten to cool her temper.

Felix waited in silence, watching her tap the numbers on her leg. _She probably doesn’t even realise she does that_ , he thought. How many times had he been there for these delusions? How many times had he pretended not to hear her crying in the next room, rolling over to mask his own tears? When had he realised why his heart broke every time hers did? He wasn’t sure anymore. Still, he’d be there, whether she liked it or not. Always.

Ingrid slowly opened her eyes. Felix was still there, and she felt something between a smile and a frown cross her lips. “Still here?”

“If it helps.”

The response caught her completely off guard. Any witty comment she had prepared vanished in an instant, and it didn’t take long for her to give up trying to find another. The silence returned.

Eventually, Felix tried again. “Does…” he began, but he shook his head and clenched his jaw.

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Just say it. Does what?”

“Does my being here help?”

Ingrid pondered for a moment. Felix had always been there. They’d never openly discussed Glenn’s death, but she supposed they’d never needed to. It only took a reassuring glance or a probing stare for them to check in with each other. Her mind wandered back to their first mission here at the monastery; their first kills on the battlefield. Glenn was with her then as well, but in the heat of battle, she’d managed to keep his appearance faint, more ghost than alive. Yet, after the fight, Felix had spotted it in the way her hands were shaking. She reddened remembering the way he’d taken her hand in his, the heat of his skin against hers and the faint blush that painted his cheeks. She’d never confess the way her hand tingled every time she saw him in the week that followed, nor the happiness that filled her heart at his presence. Sylvain would never let her hear the end of-

“Don’t make me say it again,” Felix mumbled.

Ingrid startled. _Crap! Say something, anything_. “Of course I need you.”

Felix cocked an eyebrow.

_NOT THAT._ “I mean-- you-- I--” Ingrid looked down at her balled-up fists and tried to ignore the burning heat across her cheeks.

“Forget I asked,” he replied, trying to hide a smirk. “You really are out of sorts today.” 

“I just worry, okay?”

Felix raised his head to look at Ingrid, a tear forming in the corner of her eye. Over all these years, he’d never, _never_ , seen her cry. She always managed to punch him and storm away before that happened. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she didn’t even have tear ducts, but here she was, proving him wrong again with a single tear.

_Shit shit shit, what do I do? What would Sylvain do?_ Some glib pickup line filled his ears, and thoughts of kissing Ingrid’s tears away and lowering her onto the mattress flooded his mind. **_Dammit_** _, that’s not helpful!_ Pushing himself up from the floor, he decided to compromise with his brain and at least sit next to her on the bed. Ingrid looked up at him, and he averted his eyes. “You can tell me,” he said softly. “I’ll listen to your worries.”

He waited patiently for Ingrid to compose herself, watching the measured motion of her breath out the corner of his eye. When she did reply, her words were low and gentle. “I worry that I’ll lose you too.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“How do you know? Can you say with certainty that you won’t be killed tomorrow? What about next week? We’re in a war, Felix.” 

“I know that.”

“You’re pretty carefree about it then.”

“When have I ever been careless in battle?”

“That’s not the point.”

“But that _is_ the point,” Felix snapped. “I’ll survive any battle as long as it keeps you safe. Dammit Ingrid, don’t you realise I’d never leave you?”

Felix’s words bounced aimlessly in Ingrid’s mind as she tried to comprehend what she was hearing.

Felix sighed and pressed a hand to his temples. “I know what you’re going through. I really do, and you know that better than anyone. I miss him too. But that’s not going to stop me moving forward and protecting the people I care about.”

“Do you care for me?” Ingrid whispered.

Felix suddenly forgot how breathing worked. The heat of a hundred suns burned on his face. “Of course,” he eventually muttered, avoiding Ingrid’s gaze. She’d see the truth if he did.

“Tell me.”

_Shit_. He hesitantly looked up, locking eyes with Ingrid. The green sea of emotion that met him made his heart flutter and any thought he’d had of concealing his own sentiment was immediately cast overboard. Before he could even stop himself, the words had already left his lips. “I care for you so much it hurts.”

Ingrid’s heart bloomed. All this time she’d hoped, _prayed_ that Felix could harbour even the slightest affection for her, but so scared that he’d fade before he could tell her. Only love greeted her in those mahogany eyes. Urgency bubbled in her chest. She knew it was now or never. “Then kiss me,” she said.

“What? I-”

“Kiss me, you idiot.”

No more hesitation. Felix’s lips crashed into hers, breathless and fervent. His kiss tingled from her face to her fingertips, lightning coursing through her veins in soft waves. It felt like the breaking of a storm across her body, as though his touch was enough to break her in every way she’d ever dreamed he could. She could only hope her feelings were expressed as she pressed back into his kiss.

Felix found his hand rising to cup her cheek as her tongue traced his lips. He copied the movement and a moan fell from her lips. A small tear rolled onto his thumb. He drew back to see her beautiful face flushed with emotion, a single line where the tear had traced, and his heart burst.

“I’m here,” he whispered.

“I want to touch you.”

Felix blushed. “What for?”

“Please,” Ingrid begged. “I can’t rely on tomorrow like you can. I need to touch you.” 

Felix paused as he processed what she meant, before assenting. Her fingers leapt to the clasp of his coat and she fumbled with the mechanism. Felix tutted, placing his hand on hers. “Allow me.”

He removed the leather shoulder guard first, laying it to the side. His wavering hands unclipped the fastening to his coat and he shrugged the heavy fabric from his shoulders, leaving only his shirt to remove. He’d just pulled it over his head when he realised that Ingrid was also undressing. Her cape lay haphazardly beside her, a tangle of dark green and fur. Her breastplate was discarded too, and the soft mint fabric of her shirt had already been unbuttoned halfway. She froze under Felix’s gaze.

“I… um… it would be awkward if only one of us was dressed.” Her face turned scarlet.

Felix huffed in amusement. “It’s rare for you to be embarrassed.”

Ingrid stared at Felix in nervous fondness. He was lean, but the toned muscles that gilded his frame were incredible, and at that moment she realised that every muscle he’d built was to be strong enough to protect her like he’d promised.

“All this time.” Ingrid smiled.

“What?”

“The reason you were so hellbent on training. Was it…?”

Felix reddened and turned away.

Ingrid stifled a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he said with a scowl.

“I’m not laughing at you, I promise. I’m laughing at myself for being such an idiot.”

“Hmf.”

“May I?”

Felix met her gaze for half a second before tearing his eyes away. The blush on his cheeks worsened. Just the sight of the woman he’d vowed to protect and love blushing for him was an incredible gift, and his heart threatened to pound out of his ribcage. He wanted nothing more than her touch. “Go ahead,” was all he managed to say.

Ingrid wasn’t sure where to begin. She stretched out her arm, ever so gently resting her hand above his heart. She could feel its steady thumping under her touch and the rise and fall of his chest. It felt so illicit touching him like this, yet it was everything she’d ever wanted, and she muttered a small prayer as she moved her hand aside to place a kiss over his heart.

Felix didn’t catch what Ingrid had whispered under her breath, but he was too quickly distracted by that kiss. It was a thanks and a promise, he could feel it in her breath, and his senses soared under her touch. She continued elsewhere, her fingers tracing- no, _blessing_ every muscle along his chest, back, and arms. Each touch sent him reeling. His desire began to surface within him, the dam wall he’d built to keep it at bay for so many years crumbling bit by bit, but if she loved him in return, then maybe it was time to tear it down.

A delicate kiss on his collarbone forced him back to reality, a hiss escaping his lips.

Ingrid drew back. “I’m sorry, is it too much?”

“N-no, it’s just…” Felix squirmed slightly where he sat, covering his lap a second too late.

Ingrid’s eyes widened in realisation. Her face turned scarlet. She’d be lying if she said the thought of pleasing Felix just like this didn’t please her in return. “Oh. I can stop if you want.”

“I-I didn’t say I hated it.”

Her stomach leapt. “Then, would you like to… would you like a turn?”

Felix’s breath hitched in his throat, and he cleared it to speak again. “Are you sure? I don’t… I don’t want to push you.”

Ingrid smiled. “Please.”

Biting his lip, Felix nodded. He turned back to face Ingrid, still acutely aware of his own arousal, but any thoughts of embarrassment faded as he unbuttoned the rest of Ingrid’s shirt. Her pale skin almost glowed in the dim afternoon light of the room, as perfect as porcelain. He slipped the fabric from her shoulders, revealing her rounded breasts under a cotton binding and a body sculpted by training and fighting. Felix had never comprehended how strong her own body was, despite watching her form on the battlefield on more than one occasion. He realised he was staring. Ingrid’s face was red, and her nervousness showed.

“I-I’m sorry,” Felix stammered, “you’re just… wonderful. I knew you were strong but…”

A smile crept onto Ingrid’s face. “You weren’t the only one training to protect someone.”

He leaned in close, his fingers tracing her collarbone, and kissed softly at her neck. “Let me thank you then.” Her flesh was silk under his lips and he felt the moan in her throat before he heard it. He placed his hand on her back, pulling her flush against him as he left kiss after kiss down her neck and along her shoulder.

His finger traced downwards from the nape of her neck. “More…” she whispered.

Felix’s head dipped lower, Ingrid arching her back into the touch. His lips pressed into the soft flesh above her heart and she felt a flush of heat bloom across her skin at the contact. Lower again, he began to kiss along the line where flesh and cotton met, her fingers instinctively combing through his hair as though it was the only way to stay tethered to reality.

Even still, it wasn’t enough. His lips were drawing out feelings she’d never truly explored before, save the occasional night of headiness where she’d relieve the issue quickly. But _this_? This was so intimate and thrilling her heart ached, pure ecstasy running through her veins. Her skin scorched with it. Friendship be damned, any restraint she had collected over the years was shattering with every touch. “Felix…” she moaned.

Felix swore into her skin, half kiss, half curse. Ingrid was going to be the death of him if his heart beat any faster. Her fingers, still tangled in his hair, gently lifted his lips from her chest, tilting his face up to hers. She looked at him, eyes half-lidded with pleasure, and he suppressed a shiver.

“Ingrid… I’ve… I need…” he tried to say. The words escaped him. He shook his head and tried again. “If you will have me…”

“I would like that very much.”

Moment by moment, they let their bodies tangle together, curious fingers desperately tracing every curve and valley of each other. Fabric pooled in soft heaps on the floor, forgotten in favour of their exploration. Each touch mapped a shudder or a moan, a newfound ecstasy to remember for next time.

_Next time?_ Ingrid blushed at the possibility. Their lives together, so delicately intertwined by this cruel fate, could it bear such delight? The thought was cast aside along with her undergarments and her sudden nakedness filled her thoughts. Felix knelt beside her, only his undergarments remaining.

He sensed her unease. “Is it…?”

Ingrid shook her head. “I’ve never let another see me like this. Am I… am I enough?”

Felix huffed in amusement. “You’re more beautiful than I dreamt.”

She could always tell when he was lying, so the honesty that greeted her in his eyes instantly melted her. “You dream of me?” she probed.

“I mean-- oh, shut up.” Felix frowned, his cheeks burning.

Ingrid leaned upwards, placing a half-apologetic kiss on his heated face before he playfully pushed her back down. His lips met hers and his body followed soon after. Holding himself up with one hand, he reached down and removed his undergarments, freeing the arousal that had strained too long against the fabric. Ingrid was fascinated by the shape of it.

Felix caught her staring. “What?”

“I wasn’t sure what to expect, that’s all. What do we…?”

“Want me to lead?”

Ingrid nodded, a flash of nervousness in her eyes.

Felix knew her too well not to see it. “I’ll stop, anytime you say, even this second. Just tell me.” Her held her hand in a reassuring squeeze. He held her gaze and saw it soften into trust.

“Alright.”

His lips were on her neck again, but this time gentler. Every kiss was deliberate and soft as Felix somehow found every sensitive nerve in her body. Ingrid clapped a hand over her mouth and her eyes rolled back, unable to control her own voice under his ministrations. Her chest heaved as though she was trying to breathe underwater, and when his hand moved downwards along her stomach and between her legs, she jolted in pleasure. Just one touch made her dizzy but that didn’t stop him, arousal blooming in her chest as he moved. “Oh goddess, _Felix_ …”

Felix felt his knees buckle beneath him. Just the sound of her voice speaking his name like _that_ was enough to force the air from his lungs. He wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer and he craved the friction he so desperately needed. “I can’t… Ingrid?”

Ingrid nodded, allowing Felix to position himself between her legs, and he began to press himself inside her. Ingrid gasped at the sudden intrusion, every nerve in her body tingling.

Felix groaned as the tightness around him made his vision spin. “You have to… relax…” Leaning down, he suckled at the red marks he’d already left on her neck. Her body arched upwards and gave in to the pleasure. Moment by moment, Felix moved deeper, peppering kisses across her burning flesh. Her hands grasped at anything in reach, tangling in Felix’s hair which fell from its braid across his back in soft waves in her fingers.

It could have been hours, or it could have been seconds, but Ingrid vaguely realised that Felix was fully sheathed inside of her. Their breathing was laboured, their bodies were scorching, and their heartbeats were united in a frenzy of desire. A bead of sweat rolled down Felix’s brow. “Good?”

“Goddess, yes.”

And then he began to move.

The motion drove her wild. Every fibre of her being was lost to the pleasure it sent through her body and her heart leapt to her throat with every thrust. Mute and enraptured, she could only cling to Felix as he moved. Sparks danced behind her vision. Her legs trembled. Felix’s mouth crashed against hers and she moaned into him uncontrollably, letting the pleasure wash through her body over and over again.

Felix felt Ingrid tighten around him once more and his mind almost collapsed. She wailed in delight, pulling his hair hard, and her body convulsed against his. A choked cry left his lips. Feeling her desire and joy like this was like a knife plunged into his chest, filling his heart with beautiful agony. He felt it building inside him, ready to spill over and as she whispered his name, it was more than he could bear. He pulled out of her quickly, gave a few quick strokes, and spent himself in his hand and onto the linens below.

With shaking legs, he stood and fetched a handkerchief from the tangle of clothes he’d abandoned. He tried to hide his flushed face from where Ingrid lay, but he was sure she’d spotted his blushing. He could blame it on exertion if she questioned him at least.

Tugging his undergarments back on, he sat on the edge of the bed by Ingrid’s side. A tear threatened to spill from her eye once more. His heart fell.

“Shit, Ingrid, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s not-”

“I’m not going anywhere, I-”

“Felix! You’re such an idiot.”

She was laughing? Felix’s words stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“I’m happy, you fool,” Ingrid chuckled. “It felt so good, I’m overwhelmed.”

Felix looked at her beaming face and watery eyes with bewilderment.

Ingrid sighed and tugged him down to lie with her. “If I asked you to hold me, would you believe me?”

Felix nodded dumbly as he settled alongside her. “I’ll stay, I promise.” His fingers tangled with her golden hair as she nuzzled into his chest.

“I can’t ask for forever,” she mumbled against him. “But I want to.”

“I can try anyway.”

“And when this war ends?”

Felix felt the corner of his lips tug into a smile. “If you need me, I’m there.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Now who’s the idiot? Shut up and sleep.”

Ingrid chuckled apologetically into his chest, before exhaustion began to wash over her in steady waves. Felix’s heartbeat settled into rhythm with her soft breaths, and in the privacy of his own company, he let a few tears of fear and joy roll onto the pillow. They were broken, he was certain of that, but maybe together, they might find enough peace to heal. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this work and want something more or something specific, drop me a line! I'm more than happy to oblige. Comment on a chapter, send me an inbox, or find me on tumblr at https://theresolutiontotakeflight.tumblr.com/ and I'll get back to you. R xx


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